Harry Potter and the Descendant of the Magi
by Egas Bladesoul
Summary: In Harry's third year, a horrible accident leaves an american muggle without a home or family. At the request of a very special benefactor, he is brought to Hogwarts, and they both shall learn about their entwined destinies, particularly after Voldy dies.
1. Darkest Night

Harry Potter and the Descendant of the Magi

I own only Markus, all other characters belong to JK Rowling.

-Moro

Things had gone all wrong. Nothing else could be said about what had begun in the small American rural town. The day had started so normally for Markus. He went to school, hung out with his friends, and then walked home. That was when everything went to hell. He walked up from the back yard to find the house flashing. At first, he thought it was just their TV flashing, but the screams of his mother told him otherwise. He panicked, rushing into the house. His mother lay on the ground writhing in agony, surrounded by men wearing long black robes. They took turns waving a slender stick over her, renewing her agony. They had yet to notice him. He grabbed the nearest thing he could use as a weapon, the sword his father had prized, from its display. He struck the nearest with it, not even bothering to draw the ancient blade. The man went down like a sack of potatoes, much to his companions' amusement. They shifted their attention to him, and one shot a ball of green light at his mother. She screamed as it took her life, her face wrought with unmentionable horrors. It was then that the pain struck him. It was unimaginable. It was worse than the time he had tripped with a pair of scissors and stabbed himself in the arm, worse than the time he had been hit by a car and broken seven ribs. It seemed to go on for eternity. He wanted nothing more than to die, but they relished his pain, and it continued until he blacked out.

When he woke, the house was in shambles. Fires burned sporadically through the house, and his mother lay eagle spread on the floor, her face contorted in fear and agony. He cried, as was to be expected. In the sky, some horrid sigil was burned into the sky. In the distance, light flashed against the horizon, like lightning, but from the earth instead of the heavens. More of the hellish signs were burned into the sky toward the lights. Panicking, he realized that his friends lived that way. Solemnly, he closed his mother's eyes and calmed her features before standing and pursuing those monsters. He knew he didn't stand a chance. He picked up his weapon and began his hunt.

It wasn't long until he came across the next of their victims. They seemed to be attacking at random, some houses ravaged by their brutality, others left unmarred. He hadn't known the elderly couple. They shared a look of bliss as they looked into each others eyes. They had stabbed each other through the heart. He cursed, closed their eyes, and then returned to his pursuit.

He thought that he had cried all his tears over his mother's corpse. He was proven wrong when he found Jonathan. His friend was barely clinging to life, but the football player did not go down alone. Beside him lay one of the cloaked figures with his neck snapped. "Damn, Markus, you look like hell," he joked, coughing up blood.

"Try not to talk," Markus pleaded. "I'll go get."

"Help?" Jonathan finished for him. "Don't kid yourself. I'm done for. Take this, please." He pressed something into Markus's hand.

"Your ring? I can't," Markus began, but then realized that his friend had already gone. He pushed the ring onto his finger, vowing to somehow avenge his friend. He hardly felt the tears as they ran down his face.

He gained on them, despite that he took time to check any of the victims. Some he knew, others only by sight. Some were friends, some rivals, but all of them good people. Hatred burned within him. By the time he caught up to the monsters, he burned, an inferno of hatred, anger, pain, sorrow, but most importantly, vengeance. They were in the middle of their "sport". When he saw who they were using for their game, his prior emotions were pale in comparison. Sera was disheveled, and only just barely clothed as they took their turns using various hexes and curses to bludgeon, whip, and scourge her body. He drew the blade that was now sheathed on his back. One heard the scraping of the blade against the old tooled, but well maintained leather. "Look who pulled himself out of the wreckage boys," he jested.

"Well, back for seconds, boy?" another sneered. " Come here, I'll be happy to indulge your masochistic desires." He shot a ball of blue light at a discarded soda bottle. Several others stepped forward to help the sadist. There was a bright flash of light, and then the rest stepped forward. They surrounded him, like before. Once again, they shot balls of light at him. This time he was ready, though. He sidestepped most, swinging the sword that a Roman commander had once wielded as he led his legion into battle.

The storm of emotions he was feeling shook as he fatally wounded the nearest cloaked man, but there was no time for regrets. He danced, death amongst the condemned. It was a battle against the odds though. One against twenty, sooner or later he knew that he would be hit, and hit he was. He went down as agony took him again. Those he couldn't injure seemed enraged that he had injured some of them. They were merciless. The pain from before was ecstasy compared to what he now suffered. Several of the balls of light struck him simultaneously, and they seemed to amplify one another. "So this is it," he pondered.

The light began to fade, and the pain began to cease. He saw the deceased that he had seen that night flash before his eyes. His mother, tortured and murdered before his eyes. His friends left lying in pools of their own blood. The elderly couple who had been forced to murder each other. Finally his mind turned to Sera, the girl he had come to care for, though he had never been able to tell her. Now he would never get a chance.

Someone screamed in the distance. The world came back into focus, and Markus realized that it was he himself who screamed. He felt alive, as though he had never truly been alive. The flames that burned within him raged, and he let them loose, continuing his bestial scream. Heat radiated off of him. The monsters around him weren't spared any part of the agony. He could even feel his feet sinking into the road as the tar began to melt. When all of those around him were no more, he blacked out.

Griphook was having a good day until one of the subordinates brought a letter to his attention. He had finished the paperwork to gain access to one of the old vaults that no longer had anyone with the bloodlines to inherit it. Inside had been several goblin wrought treasures long since considered lost to his people, as well as quite a high amount of wizardly treasures and an ungodly amount of gold. This letter though, was completely mood shattering. In fact, this ruined the whole acquisition, as well as the week.

On very, very seldom occasions had notices of how to run the affairs of vault 0 come to the light. This was above his status, he rushed into his superior's office. He handed the envelope to Holdfast, and turned to leave when the goblin motioned for him to sit. "Troubling events happen when He contacts us. The last executor we appointed has long since died. Are you up to the task, Griphook?" Holdfast asked him. "It would mean seeing to all of the new heir's needs, escorting him to the vault, and utter discrepancy, beyond normal expectations. This is a great opportunity for you to rise through the ranks."

"And what of young Master Potter's affairs? Would I no longer oversee them?"

"No, but these would be the only two vaults you would be expected to manage. Be warned, though, the contents of that vault are far more dangerous, and quite maddening, compared with anything else in any of the vaults."

"Very well then. I accept," Griphook answered. "What is kept in vault 0, that is so dangerous?"

"Not even known to many of our kind, this establishment was built atop of an ancient vault that was sealed to all except for the one who last sealed it. It was said that the witch Nimue had sealed her lover inside it."

"And her lover?"

"You don't know? Almost everyone, muggle or not, has heard of Merlin, said to be the only begotten son of Satan himself."

"You mean, Gringotts was constructed?"

"Yes, upon the cave that serves as the tomb of Merlin Satanspawn, and the many curiosities he kept there. Every once in a while he notifies us of one that can access the vault, with instructions on what should be done with them."

Griphook was dazed by this revelation. "But, how? Surely he perished long ago?"

"We find that it is best not to ask, even when given the chance."

"And the successor?"

"An American. Merlin sent orders for him to be brought to Hogwarts to be trained. Toss the parchment into the fire on your way out, Griphook."

The letter read:

Dear Master Goblin;

Today, one who can open my vault awakens.

The child, or perhaps, young man would be more appropriate,

dwells within the small American town of Coriander. Please contact Albus Dumbledore and have him bring the child to Hogwarts.

The magical world will need be in grave need of him in times to come.

A/N: This is my first published work, so if you don't like it, don't just rage. Send any comments, thoughts, questions, complaints, etc., and i'll try to answer them. Hopefully the chapters will get longer, but I felt that this was a good intro.


	2. New Beginnings

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. JK Rowling does, and anyone who says otherwise is fooling themselves.

* * *

A well aged man stared out of the window of his tower office. Only a very trained eye would notice the things he did. For instance, he watched as three of his students sneaked out of the castle to visit with the Care for Magical Creatures professor, Hagrid. Poor man, he loved those animals so much, and the ministry's bigotry refused to listen to reason as far as the injury of their precious purebloods were concerned. A large tawny owl flew through another window, dropping a letter on his desk before flying out, much to the distaste of the phoenix on its perch. It trilled its annoyance before going back to sleep.

Intrigued, the old man picked up the envelope and pulled out a letter.

To Professor Dumbledore,

Greetings, Professor. Certain anonymous benefactors would be greatly pleased if one Markus du'Gall, of the small American town of Coriander were to be brought to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The boy is currently being held in St. Gladius's, and his fate is uncertain among the American Ministry of Magic. His abilities bloomed late, well after the standard age of eleven, which creates a bit of a dilemma as far as enrolling him for classes. You have shown expertise in handling odd cases before, and it was requested that you do so again. The child's school needs have already been financed, and he needs but to pick up the required materials and begin his schooling. If it is not entirely covered up by the American Ministry, you will find that the boy has some extraordinary talents, which we at Gringotts know only of due to our patron's information. He also hinted that if not properly trained, the child could bring our magical society down around our heads. I have taken the liberty of contacting the official in charge of his case, and, given your record and reputation, he agreed more than willingly to have him to be trained at Hogwarts. Enclosed you will find the case file we have established about the boy.

Griphook, Executor of the Deep Vaults

Dumbledore stared at the letter, unsure of what to think. On the grounds below, he watched as a motley group emerged from beneath the Whomping Willow. Young Harry, Ron, and Hermione, always in the middle of some peril, Professor Lupin, the very peril, convict Sirius Black, and some grimy, mousy man who he suspected was none other than Peter Pettigrew. One of them dragged Professor Snape behind him. He watched sadly as Professor Lupin convulsed, beginning the painful transformation into a werewolf, and as Sirius transformed into a dog to protect the students from him.

He turned his attention back to the envelope containing the young American's file, which consisted of several accounts of the events that transpired, the first responders' reports, and of a missive telling the story in the third person, as if from someone else watching it, similar to viewing a memory in a Pensieve. He started with the articles, glancing at the headlines. One read, "DORMANT WIZARD FLATTENS THREE BLOCKS", while another read, "MUGGLE AWAKENS MAGIC WITHIN, DEATH EATER ACTIVITY IN SMALL TOWN." He started with that one.

He had heard of a small group of witches and wizards in the Western Hemisphere who had followed Voldemort's lead, but they had gone dormant with the death of their idol. The ministry had concluded that the attack had been a relapse of former members, "A bit of sport," as one had described it. Dumbledore himself had drawn this conclusion. The number of dead was staggering. Hundreds were killed outright, and many more were missing. The boy, this Markus, was the only known survivor, and he was being treated in the American equivalent of St. Mungos for magical overload, magic burn, magical exhaustion, and magical shock, as well as extensive physical, mental, and emotional trauma. The author speculated about what had happened, but could not say for certain what could have caused such extensive magical damage to the child.

Dumbledore glanced down at the grounds to find several people being assaulted by dementors. Just before their damnation, one of them conjured a powerful patronus, repelling the foul creatures. He smiled at the success of Harry's hard work and determination. He then began to read the missive from the unknown observer. The occurances of that night were terrible, and would no doubt scar the child forever. The town had been left in shambles at the passing of the Death Eaters, but the child had done something quite amazing. Fiendfyre had been one of the terrible things that had been used against those poor souls. As the child neared an inch of his life, he had released something that he had read theories about, but no one had ever accomplished. He had cast Angelsfyre, the opposite of Fiendfyre, with alarming skill. Dumbledore doubted the credibility of this account, until he noticed a silvery strand attached to the bottom of the parchment.

Curious, he gingerly prodded it with his wand and added it to a bowl of swirling silvery material, though this memory made the rest look tarnished. The surface quivered, and then Dumbledore found himself within the memory. He hovered above a circle of black robed men as they cast a plethora of the vilest spells on a boy, presumably Markus du'Gall. The boy fell to his knees, grievously wounded. Despite taking a particularly nasty curse to the chest, the muggle struggled to his feet.

Several blasts of emerald light that could only be the killing curse sped towards the boy. They struck him together, but to his amazement the boy did not die. Instead, he let out an unearthly scream, waves of fire rolling off of him. The fire swirled and formed shapes of magical creatures. He saw phoenixes, unicorns, dragonlings, sprites, and many other things in the fire, some of which he had never seen before. The heat was hardly bearable for him, a good distance away. The Death Eaters burst into flames, dead before they could even scream. A shockwave urged the flames on, and the boy collapsed. The memory went dark, and Dumbledore found himself back in his office, shaking from what he had just witnessed. He decided to personally see to it that the boy was brought to Hogwarts, not only to ensure he was properly trained, not to say that the American schools didn't do an excellent job, but also so that he could be free of those who may wish for revenge for their slain families.

Glancing down below, he noticed that Professor Snape had come to, and was bringing Sirius Black and the students back up to the castle. He left his office with the intention of meeting them in the Hospital Wing. There was much work to be done, and he couldn't possibly hope to do it all himself. Besides, it gave Harry and friends room to prove themselves, and they would need all the skill they could get, if what he foresaw ever came to pass.

* * *

Markus awoke in a hospital bed. He didn't know which one, or how he got there, but he knew it was a hospital. His body ached, like he had just run three long distance marathons, back to back. He groaned, and then decided to sit up. The effort exhausted him, but in the end he managed to prop himself up. The room was surprisingly bare. He had been in hospitals before, the time he had broken his leg, and the time he was in that car crash, but there had been so much technology before. Machines monitored his blood pressure, heart rate, and half a dozen other things. This room was devoid of any such devices. Slowly, he stood out of the bed, though it took an alarming toll on him. He stumbled towards the door when an old man laughed.

"Leaving so soon, young man?" he asked. Markus wheeled around, but in his exhaustion he fell, landing in surprisingly plump chair that he hadn't noticed before. "The healers didn't expect you up for another few days at the least," the man stated.

"Excuse me, but who are you?" Markus asked.

"Ah, yes, I do believe that introductions are in order," the old man replied. "I am Professor Dumbledore, Markus du'Gall. I'm here because an anonymous benefactor asked that you be enrolled in the school I teach at. Don't ask me who, I wasn't told myself, sadly," he explained, sounding both curious and slightly disgruntled at the last.

"What about my mother, and my friends?" Markus asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Don't you remember? Coriander is no more. Between you and the Death Eaters, the entire town collapsed," Dumbledore stated somberly. "Your mother was found dead, as were most of the residents. A few survived, but its been quite a field day for the ministry. Any survivors have gathered what they could and moved on."

"What are Death Eaters? What do you mean between what they and I did?" Markus asked. "Last thing I remember was a lot of green light, and then I felt like I was on fire, and I was screaming when I blacked out. I couldn't see through the pain."

"Yes, of course, silly me, I should have known you wouldn't understand. The Death Eaters are a group of wizard superiority fanatics who believe in the destruction of muggles and the muggleborn," he began. Noticing the weird looks he was getting from Markus, Dumbledore quickly began again. "In Britain, they followed a wizard who went, well, evil. His name, was Tom, Tom Riddle." The old wizard paused, as if personally guilty for this man's actions. "I taught him once, many years ago. He gathered followers, who called themselves the Death Eaters, and they follow his every order. That is, until several years ago when he fell from power. For England, it brought peace after what seemed like an eternal nightmare. But for those who entertained similar thoughts in other countries, where Voldemort had no influence, his fall did little to stop the violence."

"But, if things like this happened all the time, how come I've never heard about them?" Markus interrupted Dumbledore.

"A good question. Wizards like us enjoy our peace. We try to keep the muggles, that is, non-magic folk, from knowing of our existence. Its easier for us to live like this. The Ministry of Magic goes to great lengths to make sure that they think the attacks are just natural disasters. Earthquakes, mudslides, tornadoes, things like that. The worst, even worse than Coriander, is that town with the coal fire, perhaps you heard about it. The spell still ravages the land. No? Well, don't worry too much, not many have. Anyways, those are all places where the Death Eaters decided to purge the muggle population," Dumbledore rambled.

"What does that have to do with me?"Markus asked.

"Why, your a wizard, of course. Which brings us back to business. Typically, wizards start at Hogwarts when they're eleven. That poses a bit of a problem with you, of course, but I have decided to put you with a group of students a year younger than you. I don't think you should have too much trouble catching up, from what I've heard from some of your peers," he began rambling again. "But I digress. I've talked with the Ministry, and they are willing to discharge you to Hogwarts, should you decide you want to. There is a bit of paperwork, but I've taken care of it, it just needs your signature. I realize that this is a bit much to take in, so feel free to take some time in making your decision."

"I can give you my answer now," Markus stated quickly. "There is nothing left for me here. They took everything I had from me, my family, my friends, Sera..."

* * *

"Excellent. As soon as the healers deem you fit, I shall take you to Diagon Alley, and then we'll go to Hogwarts for the rest of the term. Sadly, yet another year draws to a close."

Diagon Alley. For Markus it was a wonder unrivaled by anything he had ever seen. The seemingly impossible buildings reminded him of Escher's paintings. He suspected that you could find anything here, for the right price. Dumbledore seemed amused by his his reaction. He was led to a marble building that dominated the dingy street. The gold band across it prominently declared it to be Gringotts. Inside he found short creatures unlike anything he had ever seen. Dumbledore led him to a counter. "We need to make a withdrawal from the Hogwarts trust for Mr. du'Gall," He stated stiffly.

"I'm afraid that I cannot authorize that, Professor," the creature replied. He motioned to another of the creatures sitting in a desk in a corner. "Griphook, sir," he addressed the newcomer. "You asked to be notified if one Markus du'Gall entered the premises."

* * *

"Ah, yes, very good Shiftbolt. I'll take over from here," Griphook reassured him. "I'm sorry professor, but the trust clearly states that the funds allotted for extreme charity cases can only be used on those who do not have a substantial holding. Mr. du'Gall, on the other hand, has a vault allotted to him by his benefactor, and therefore is ineligible for the conditions of using the Hogwarts funds. However, it is necessary that we key Mr. du'Gall into his vault, and that we take him to another vault, as per our instructions." Dumbledore looked perplexed. Clearly he was not a man used to being told what could and couldn't be done. "If you would follow me, Master du'Gall, we can take care of the paperwork quickly before I take you down to the vaults.

"It is not necessary for you to read through the entire document, Master du'Gall," the creature, that after asking, Markus learned was a goblin, insisted. "We take pride in properly preparing and managing all of our accounts." Markus skimmed through the last page of the forty eight page contract that had been set in front of him. Nothing seemed amiss, so he apologized, and then signed the end of it.

"My parents were very adamant about teaching me the importance of legal and financial documents. I was taught to read all of the documents, in case some problem should arise, I have a basic understanding of what is going on. Forgive me my mistrust and poor use of your time," Markus explained. Griphook smiled at the apology, and then ushered him to a cart suspended from a single rail. They rocketed through the winding caverns, abruptly stopping at a row of circular doors, approximately half a mile below the ground. Griphook inserted the key into the lock and opened the impressive door.

Inside was a treasure trove beyond Markus' imagination. There were heaping mounds of gold galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts, as Professor Dumbledore had explained to him earlier. Griphook gathered him a pouch. "Given the current highest of market prices, this should get you through your first two years of school, even with opulent spending on the side. However, should you need more, ask any of the other goblins for Griphook, and I shall bring you down here to obtain more. Now, if you please, we must make another stop before returning to the surface, and I understand that Professor Dumbledore is waiting for you."

The mine cart rocketed down through the twisted caverns. They even passed a dragon's den, though luckily, the cart was shielded from dragon's fire. Suddenly, the cavern ended, and the cart slammed to a stop. "Here we are, Master du'Gall, Vault 0, the vault of our most celebrated client. If you would please open the door, you can meet your benefactor," Griphook monologued, gesturing at the wall. To Markus, it just looked like a wall. Regardless, he walked up and placed his hand on the strangely warm stone. In his mind he pictured himself pulling the stone out and rolling it to the side, despite the fact that he knew he would never be able to budge such a large slab. His goblin companion stared at him expectantly, so he decided to give it a try. He found niches in the side that his fingers could grab, and he pulled back. Reluctant at first, the stone soon pulled out, and he easily slid it over. Griphook smiled deviously, in a way that said that he hadn't doubted him in the least.

"What would have happened if someone else tried that?" he asked.

"There's a bit of debate about that. Its been awhile, and no one really ever comes down to check, but they either get pulled inside, or the stone eats them, we're not really sure. We can't even open the door to this vault," He said with that ridiculous grin. "I will wait here for you."

Markus walked for a good distance, until the cave opened up into a large central cavern. Various objects of interest were arranged in the chamber, and seven tunnels led out. However, the cavern hall was dominated by an enormous crystal stalagmite, which entombed an ancient man. Very carefully, Markus approached it. The man wore shimmering robes that seemed to change colors depending on the angle. His hands and arms were covered in tattooed runes like coiled snakes. The man's face looked surprisingly youthful, in spite of the body length beard that wrapped around his waist and shoulder length hair.

Markus reached out, his hand touching the surface of the stalagmite. As his hand grazed the stone, the man's eyes snapped awake, glaring deep into his soul. The man's perpetual scowl lightened, and the man just barely smiled. The presence in his mind was ancient, yet it felt groggy, as if he had just been wakened prematurely from a much needed nap. "My king?" the man spoke, his voice distorted by the reverberated stone. "Nay, that 'twas but a dream, and magic burns within you. I tried to teach the boy, in hopes that it would save him, but nothing could have been done. Nay, you are the young man whom I beckoned to."

"You're, you're," Markus stumbled.

"Yes, you know me," the man said. "There is power in names. Say it," he commanded.

"You're Merlin Satanspawn, the Kingmaker," Markus gasped. The man chuckled.

"Ah, the muggle names. It has been some time since any wizard has called me those. Nowadays those children who call themselves wizards use my name quite frequently, though I don't understand what's so special about my beard. Don't they know its rude to disturb an old man while he sleeps."

"What do you mean, you beckoned to me?" Markus asked.

"It's quite simple really," Merlin began. "I felt that little ripple you gave off, gave me quite a shock. I haven't felt anything like it since the fall of the Republic. I do miss those days, bloody though they were. There's something boring about being the most powerful person there is. Perhaps ask that teacher waiting for you up in the lobby, he could tell you about it. That, and you're like me. I don't know what it means, but you and I are similar, yet different, like two sides of a coin. There is another reason, but I cannot reveal that until he is here with you. You're destinies are entwined, so I gave fate a little prod in the right direction by bringing you to London." Merlin yawned. "I don't mean to be rude, but I must ask you to leave for now. Being dead takes a toll on a man. I find that I need to sleep now more than I ever did in life. But, before you go, take the book, you may find the information within valuable." The ancient corpse returned to sleep.

"What book?" Markus asked, but did not receive a reply. He glanced around one last time, and then turned to leave. As he turned, his foot kicked an ancient tome. He picked it up and dusted off the title, but he didn't understand the language, as it was written in the same runes that banded Merlin's arms. He returned from whence he came, and found Griphook waiting patiently for him.

"All finished? Very well, back to the surface we go," the goblin beamed. He glanced greedily at the book in Markus' arms, but Markus ignored it. After the fifteen minute ride, they returned to the polished marble floors of the upper bank. Dumbledore was found waiting outside, sucking contently on a sherbert lemon. The old man eyed the book curiously, glancing at the runes on the cover, but otherwise ignored it. He led Markus through Diagon Alley as he bought his school supplies. As Markus went into Ollivander's for his wand, Dumbledore excused himself, saying that he had some business to attend to, and that Markus should wait for him in the Leaky Cauldron.

Markus rang a bell on the dusty counter, which in turn gave off a haunting ring and a puff of dust. A man that almost seemed as though he could rival Dumbledore's age slid into view on a ladder. "Hmm. What do we have here? I certainly don't remember selling you a wand before, and I remember all 353927 wands that I've sold over the years. Perhaps you bought one from a different wand maker? No, that doesn't seem right. But you're too old to just be buying your first wand. Hmm, a puzzle, never much cared for puzzles. Challenges yes, but puzzles, not too much. Oh, I'm sorry. Forgot that you were there for a minute. Now, to the task at hand. Lets see... Thirteen inches, dragon heartstring and black walnut," he said, offering up the wand. It barely touched his hand before the old man returned it to his box and handed him another. "Unicorn and cherry, nine inches? No, willow and phoenix feather? Nope, lets try yew and dragon heartstring? Hmmm, I haven't had a challenge like this since young Mr. Potter. No matter, I always match a wand to the witch or wizard in question."

Despite the old man's confidence, the number of wands they sorted through was extraordinary. Finally, the old man pulled open a drawer and scratched his head. "Hmm, maybe I have another in the back room..." He muttered as he walked through a narrow doorway. He came back with a grim look on his face and empty handed. "I'm speechless, young man. I've never not found a match." At that moment Dumbledore walked back in. "Ah, professor, you brought this young wizard, did you?" the old man greeted him graciously. "I seem to have a bit of a conundrum. You see, I wasn't able to match him. I'm going to write to some of the other wandmakers, perhaps they can match him. For the mean time, I suppose that we could set up mister, umm, what did you say that your name was?"

"I didn't," Markus answered. "Markus du'Gall, sir."

"Ah, I suppose we could set mister du'Gall here up with a loaner, free of cost of course, until we can find a match for him."

Dumbledore promptly answered Mr. Ollivander. "Of course. Did you have anything particular in mind?"

"Hmm, this one was a bit of an experiment, the core doesn't normally work well with the wood, so its a little awkward, but for now it should work fine for someone with his capacities." Dumbledore looked at the old man curiously. "Sorry, not my secret to give," Ollivander apologized. "I will say this though, Professor. His past and yours are connected." Both Markus and Dumbledore left the shabby shop looking perplexed.

"Now, if you would grab my arm, I'll take us right outside of the school grounds." Dumbledore announced. Markus did so, and the resulting feeling was unimaginable. Markus found it exciting, like plummeting down a roller coaster.

Dumbledore stumbled as they appeared in the small village of Hogsmeade. Markus tried to help the old man to his feet, but he pushed his hand aside and stood up himself. "Do you mind if we stop for a quick drink? I haven't had anything for a while," Dumbledore lied. He led Markus into a small pub called the Three Broomsticks and asked the waitress for two butterbeers. He handed one to Markus. "Cheers," he said, before drinking heartily. Markus did the same. The drink was delicious, to say the least. It was foamy, and yet creamy. The only thing he had ever had that could compare was a root beer float, but this was much better.

* * *

Dumbledore led him down a long road back to a wonderful castle. It was like something out of a fantasy book, and Markus was thrilled. Dumbledore didn't say a word to him the entire way. As they approached the door, the old man looked at him with a devious smile. "How do you feel about dramatic entrances?" Markus returned the smile with, if possible, even more deviousness. Dumbledore left him in an enormous entrance hall by a door that he said led into the Great Hall.

Harry sat in his normal seat amongst his friends at the Griffindor table. There was still about three weeks left until the end of term, but they had already finished all their classes. His bushy haired friend, Hermione pointed out that Professor Dumbledore was missing from his seat. Harry turned and looked, mouthing "Where's Dumbledore to Hagrid. Hagrid shrugged. Dumbledore didn't normally disappear midterm, but Hagrid wouldn't worry about Dumbledore, trusting him completely. Suddenly, Dumbledore strode in through a small side door. All eyes turned to the aged Headmaster, but he paid them no mind. He held something in his hand, though no one could tell what it was.

* * *

When they finished dinner, Dumbledore clanged his knife against his goblet. "Attention everyone, I have an announcement to make. As of today, a new student will join the third year class, but before that, he has to be sorted, just like everyone else. And without further ado, allow me to introduce, Markus du'Gall. In an explosion of strangely warm and cold fire, Markus felt himself pulled into the room, before a stool with a battered hat upon it. He placed the hat upon his head as Dumbledore had explained.

"Hmm, aren't you a little old to be sorted? Nevermind, lets see. Clever, creative, bold, you'd make a good Ravenclaw," the hat announced for all to hear. One of the tables began to clap, when the hat interrupted them. "Loyalty, hard-working, fair, you'd also make a decent Hufflepuff." This time no one applauded, instead staring at him on the stool. "Devious, mischievious, cunning, all traits of an excellent Slytherin, but also the bravery and nobility of a Griffindor. So, where do we put young Markus. Perhaps I must look deeper." To him, the hat said, "True, you do have all the traits of all the houses. Lets see, vindictive yet just, calculating but passionate. Truly, you would match any house."

"And so I face a challenge unlike any in many a year. But, I think, this one goes to, GRIFFINDOR!" One table roared and cheered, another openly booed. The other three clapped politely.

"And now I think it is late enough in the night that we should settle to bed for the night. In the words of a particular Ravenclaw whom I had an interesting conversation with the other night, Good night, don't let the nargles bite." One of several red-haired wizards fell back and walked with him to the Griffindor tower. "My name's Percy. I'm a Prefect, so if you need any help, feel free to ask." They arrived at a portrait of a fat lady, in fact the portrait of The Fat Lady. "Morning dew," Percy said. "Thats the password, so try to remember it. If you don't, just go ask any other Griffindor. This is the common room, the staircase on the left leads to the boy's dorm, and the staircase on the left to the girl's. Just look for your trunk, that's your bed. Good night."

He stood there taking in his surroundings. At one table, another red-head played chess with a black-haired wizard. A bushy haired witch sat next to them, reading a book. "Is this seat taken?" Markus asked, sitting across from the witch. The way he figured, he was decent at chess, but the red haired wizard was obviously a pro. His opponent was losing horribly, to say the least. He glanced at the layout. The red-haired wizard would win next turn unless his opponent did something drastic. He stared at it, same as the dark-haired wizard. The red-head boldly said, "Sorry Harry, but that's game." Harry went to lay down his king, when Markus boldly said, "Knight to E5." The piece jumped forward, checking the opposite king. The red-head frowned.

"Queen to E5," he responded.

"Bishop to C4," Markus attacked.

"Pawn to B3."

"Rook to F2."

"Queen to C4."

"Pawn to B1, checkmate," Markus finished. The red-head stared aghast at the board, trying to find a way out, but it was futile. The witch smiled into her book.

"Thanks, mate," Harry said.

"Sorry, umm, Harry, I think your name was? I didn't mean to take over your game," Markus apologized.

"I want a rematch," the red-head said, shocked.

"Honestly Ron," the witch said, "You lost, it happens."

"Sorry, I think I'm going to go to bed. Maybe tomorrow," Markus promised. "I'm Markus du'Gall.

"Harry Potter."

"Ron Weasley."

"Hermione Granger."

"Well, goodnight, everyone," Markus said. "I'll see you tomorrow." He walked up the staircase on the left, going up one floor.

"We're up two more floors," Harry informed him.

"Oh, thanks," Markus answered, following Harry up. He found his bed, golden blankets with red curtains, and promptly fell asleep.

A/N: like I said, these are going to get longer, and hopefully better as I go. Any comments would be greatly appreciated, they'll help with the chapters. Also, I make a lot of references when I write, so if it sounds familiar, it probably is.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: So far, only Markus is mine, Harry Potter and company are property of JK Rowling, and Merlin, well anyone can use his name, seeing as he's a folk/ questionably historical character. Any reference to actual places or people are either coincidental or an intended reference.

"Hey, Markus, you haven't forgotten about me, have you? Jonathan asked him. "Yeah, me. Your best friend, the one you watched die. Why didn't you save me? You could have, I saw what you did?" a specter asked him.

"What I did?" Markus asked. "What do you mean?"

"Don't you remember? Maybe you should ask them," it said, gesturing to eight horribly burnt figures, with glaring, horrible eyes.

"No, I couldn't have, I wouldn't have," Markus stumbled.

"Oh, but you did, son, you did," said a new form, that of his mother. "You were too weak, too weak to kill those who attacked me, but you killed all of them. Why son, why? Why wouldn't you save your own mother?" She interrogated him.

"I tried mother, I tried so hard, but I couldn't, I just couldn't do it," Markus sobbed. "Please, forgive me!"

A third specter formed from the shadows. "You killed for me, though. How did it feel, to avenge me, to bring death to my killers?" Sera asked. With her words several mutilated bodies formed, all staring at him.

"I never wanted any of this!" Markus screamed at them. "I would give it all up to have you all back. I loved you, all of you!"

"You let us die, Markus. You failed us. You didn't even have the decency to die yourself. It should have been you. You're a murderer, just like them. JUST LIKE THEM," they all said together. Markus wanted to claw his eyes out.

He bolted upright, panting. He had awakened in a cold sweat. He didn't dare try to go back to sleep after that, so he took the beginner spell book and went down to the common room to read. Thankfully, none of his bunk mates had noticed his distress. HE walked down the stairs, glancing at an alarm clock as he went. It read 3:30AM. Markus sighed. It was going to be a long night.

To Markus' surprise, someone else was occupying the common room at this early hour. A different red-head, who he hadn't met yet, sat curled in a ball on one couch. She looked terrible. There were bags under her eyes like she hadn't been sleeping enough, and her eyes were puffy, as if she had been crying.

"Bad dreams?" he asked. She nodded.

"You too?" she replied. He returned a nod. "I'm Ginny Weasley," she introduced herself.

"Markus du'Gall, nice to meet you," he replied. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," she replied. "How 'bout you, you wanna tell me what happened to you?"

"Too soon for me," he answered earnestly.

"That bad, huh?" she asked. "I don't remember most of it. Last year, I found this diary in my school books. Little did I know that it was an incredibly dark object," she began reluctantly. "I wrote in it, and to my surpise, it answered. I thought it was my friend. His name," she paused, her lip quivering, "was Tom Riddle. He asked me about school, about me, my family, but mostly about Harry."

"Stop, you don't have to tell me," Markus interrupted.

"I know that," she answered heatedly. " Anyways, there were these attacks on muggle borns, by someone who called himself the heir of Slytherin. It started with Filch's cat, Ms. Norris being petrified. Then, it was a Griffindor named Colin Creevey, then a Hufflepuff named Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick, and finally a Griffindor name Hermione Granger, and a Ravenclaw named Penelope Clearwater. Meanwhile, I had portions of time where I couldn't remember anything. In the end, Riddle took control of my body and forced me to go down into the Chamber of Secrets, the home to Slytherin's monster, a giant basilisk. He intended to use my life to return himself to life. My brother Ron and Harry," she said, her face brightening at the thought of Harry, "They went after me. They got separated, and Harry found me, mostly dead, and Riddle, almost alive. With some help, Harry managed to kill it, but he was poisoned in the process. If Dumbledore's phoenix Fawkes hadn't come, Harry," her lip quivered again. "Harry would have died, he almost died, and it was all my fault. I thought I would be expelled for sure, but Dumbledore was so nice about it." Ginny was ready to cry. Markus hugged her.

"It sounds like you had a rough time," Markus comforted her. "Until yesterday, I never knew that I was a wizard. I lived with my mother, and I was happy. One day, the Death Eaters came. The way Dumbledore explained it, they were remnants of the old Death Eaters out for some sport. Apparently they get quite violent in America. He said they've destroyed several muggle towns entirely. I came home one night, and they were there. My mother, they tortured her. I tried to help her, but I couldn't. I had picked up a sword from Japan, something that we kept after my father died. I hit one with it, sheath and all. They thought it was funny, me hitting one of them. They tortured me until I blacked out. When I awoke, my mother, she was dead," Markus openly sobbed. "I picked up the sword and went after them. I followed in their wake of carnage. I held my best friend as he died. Have you ever been in love Ginny?" She went to answer him, but he cut her off. "You don't have to answer that. Just imagine if you had to watch that person die. I did. I watched as they tortured the girl I loved. Something inside me snapped, and I attacked them, sword drawn. I killed two before they overpowered me. They tortured me more, they mocked me, and those that they killed. It hurt, more than their spells, as they made fun of my friends. I was about to die, when it happened. The magic within me awoke, and it exploded outward. Their blood is on my hands."

"Don't talk like that. There was nothing you could have done, any more than I could have done anything. Don't allow yourself to be blackened by the sins of others. They will paint you black because they are evil. You didn't want this to happen," Ginny argued with him. Markus smiled at her.

"Thanks for listening. I know we're complete strangers, but it was nice to have someone to talk to," Markus said.

"I should be thanking you. I feel better than I have all year. I've secretly been blaming myself, and by holding it in, it was like a festering wound," she replied. "If you don't mind, I'm going to try to get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, Markus."

* * *

"Goodnight, Ginny." Markus turned back to the charms book. "Alright, first spell, Wingardium Leviosa," he said to himself.

"C'mon, Markus, we've got Potions," Ron called to him as he, Harry, and Hermione left the common room. Markus followed them to the dungeons.

"Quiet, down," a menacing voice called from the back of the room. "Today we will be brewing a simple laughing potion. Directions can be found on page 183 of you text books. All the ingredients you will need are in the student store room. Be forewarned that if inproperly brewed, a laughing potion becomes highly toxic, and that you will be drinking your brew at the end of class. Well, what are you waiting for, get to work," he sneered. At the professor's description of the potion, one of the other Griffindors turned green, well, a darker shade of green, seeing as he already was green. Markus set up his cauldron at an unoccupied table, and began reading the instructions.

"Umm, professor, how should we heat the cauldron?" Markus asked, confused.

"Ah, yes, I had forgotten," he sneered in a way that clearly said he hadn't. "We have a new student amongst us today. His," he paused, "background of course, seems to make him a tad bit ignorant, but I would think that even Longbottom over there can figure out how to cast a simple fire spell." He pulled out his wand and began to wave it at the base of the cauldron. Markus quickly drew his own wand and tapped beneath the cauldron first. The flames quickly spread evenly around the base.

"Five points from Griffindor, Mr. du'Gall, for your insolence. Back to work everyone." Markus hadn't noticed that the rest of the class was watching them. A blonde kid whispered something to his two cronies, and all three began sniggering. Markus ignored them, and began gathering and preparing ingredients.

Markus was just finishing his potion when one of the blonde boy's thugs came up to his table. "Lionfish fins," he grunted. Markus remembered that the fins were a fairly early step to the potion, but absently handed the boy some. He then pretended to sneeze and threw something that definitely wasn't a lionfish fin into Markus' cauldron. The finished baby blue color violently turned black as the goon walked back to his seat. Markus cursed. His potion was ruined and he didn't have time to start over, but there was no telling what the kid had added. Markus turned to the index of ingredients in the back of the book and looked up flies. The only entry was on lacewing flies, and they definitely didn't belong in a laughing potion.

The professor walked by and glanced at his cauldron and almost smiled. That look angered him. How dare he smile because of what that kid did. The vials and cauldron began to shake. Markus was determined to fix this, if only to spite the teacher. He walked back to the storeroom with everyone staring at him. He began rifling through the reagents, without knowing what he was looking for. He read the label on one bottle and then went back to his cauldron. He poured it in, and, to his, and everyone else's amazement, the potion returned to its baby blue hue.

The teacher, unamused, handed him a glass and told him to drink it. He did, and immediately began laughing histerically. "Five points from Griffindor for giving him some of your potion, Miss Granger," he barked. "Now get out, all of you." They all scurried out.

* * *

"What did you add?" Hermione asked him. He opened his hand to reveal the empty bottle of powdered venus fly trap.

Markus decided to go to the library to read a book that Hermione had recommended to him. Unfortunately, he had left the common room an hour ago. Between the moving staircases, his unfamilarity with the castle, and the utter lack of any sort of directions, he was fairly lost. When he finally got to the library, it was almost curfew, so he hurriedly found the book and checked it out. "Well,well, what do we have here, boys," the blonde sneered at him. "It looks to me like some mudblood filth is mucking up the castle." The goons beside him cracked their knuckles. "Now, now, if I let you do that, we really wouldn't really be any better than him, would we."

The blonde pulled out his wand and sent a curse at him, some violet ball of light. Markus dived out of the way. The curse hit a statue and bounced back, hitting the git in the chest. His cronies watched aghast as he was dangled upside down by his ankles. Markus quickly ran the other way, lest they get the wrong idea. Still, he laughed all the way.

"What happened to you?" Hermione asked when he got back to the common room.

"Lets just say I had a run-in with everyone's favorite Slytherin git," Markus replied. "Last I saw of him, he was hanging from the ceiling."

"You shouldn't be dueling in the halls, you'll get in trouble during your first week," she protested .

"Relax, Malfoy tried to curse me, missed, and the spell bounced back and hit him," he explained. Ron and Harry congratulated him, and Hermione scowled deeper.

* * *

"C'mon Hermione, the git deserved it," Ron said. "Even you hit him in the face." Markus laughed deeply. "So, just give him a break."

Markus couldn't help but feel a little depressed after the end of term feast. Everyone else would be going home for the summer, but he didn't have anywhere to go. Instead, he would be staying to catch up on what he had missed in the past three years of training, which was perfectly fine with him. As it happened, he had already learned most of the first year spells and what not. For the most part, the professors left him to work by himself, occasionally asking if he needed help. The exception of course, was Snape. Half the time, he wouldn't even show up to the dungeons while Markus brewed. The rest of the time he was making rude remarks about Markus' potion, or more often than not, his family, since his potions turned out beatifully, much to the slimy git's irritation.

There wasn't much else to do, besides studying. The only people around were the professors, the house elves, and himself, and the teachers left frequently. Even when he wasn't in his lessons, he began doing schoolwork. The headmaster would occasionally check up on him, but he was busy trying to find a new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Halfway through June he had finished the second year's spellwork.

* * *

"Oh how quick you were to forget us," Jonathan scolded him.

"We're not even rotting in our graves, and you've replaced us," Sera added coldly.

"I shouldn't even have raised you, you monster," his mother said, bitingly. Markus woke with a start. Glancing at the clock, he swore. It was only three, and that had been the third time his nightmares had woken him up that night. He wished Ginny was here, so he could talk with her. But alas, there was no point in dwelling in idle wishes. He got dressed and picked up a book on runes he was reading. He completed the translation he had been working on, sighed and set the book down. It was only four.

Breakfast was a fairly boring affair. He ate with the professors at the head table, but he felt out of place. As he pushed his food around on his plate, an owl flew in and dropped a letter in front of him before flying up to the owlery. The envelope was blank, save for his name and Hogwarts. It was sealed in the old fashioned way, with a bit of wax and some sort of insignia. Markus stared at it, realizing that it was some kind of bird. He broke the seal and pulled out the letter.

Markus,

In light of the events planned for the year to come, it is imperative that you get a wand properly attuned to you. Mr. Ollivander has not yet been able to procure one that will work, nor will he be capable of doing so. However, there is another way. When you get the chance, tell him that you wish to take the rite of initiation. He will understand what it means. I've charmed this paper to self immolate after you finish reading it. Included is a gift for the end of the summer. Have a happy holiday.

Your Benefactor

P.S. Don't make any bets with one Ludo Bagman, the gold that falls from the sky dissapears, and when you get the chance, read my journal.

Markus smiled at the paper, and it did indeed float up and catch fire. He picked up the envelope and looked again at the seal. "Of course," he thought to himself. "Merlin's insignia would be a merlin." Inside the envelope was a ticket to the quidditch world cup, taking place in August. Dumbledore chuckled. All of the professors were staring down the table at him.

After breakfast, he grabbed a couple of things from his trunk and headed up to the Headmaster's office. "Interesting post this morning, Mr. du'Gall," Dumbledore greeted him.

"Interesting, indeed, professor." Markus showed the headmaster the quidditch ticket.

"Well, that thoroughly ruins this season, the ticket says who will play in the match," Dumbledore stated, faking disappointment. "Anything else interesting?"

"I need to go visit Mr. Ollivander," Markus answered. "I don't know if I will be returning this summer," he added.

"Alright, theres just a little bit of business we need to take care of first," he said. "Third years would normally pick extra classes, and I know I mentioned this to you, but have you happened to pick yours. Professor McGonagall has been heckling me for weeks to ask you, so she can finish your Hogwarts letter for this year," he said with a smile.

"Ancient runes, Care for Magical Creatures, and Arithmancy," Markus quickly answered. "I've already started the summer assignments for those classes," he explained.

"You are aware that normally it is recommended that students only take two electives?"

"Yes, but I believe I can handle taking three, and they sound useful, unlike the other two," he explained.

"Very well, I think an exception can be made, given the teachers evaluation of how you are progressing." Dumbledore paused. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Tired, but theres nothing that can be done about that," Markus answered truthfully.

* * *

"I believe that they will pass, in time," Dumbledore said, comfortingly. "If you are all prepared then, I can send you to the Leaky Cauldron, and you can take care of your business with Mr. Ollivander."

Entering the dark, dusty wandmaker's shop, Markus felt slightly nervous. Merlin hadn't been kind enough to inform as to what this rite of initiation was. "Mr. Ollivander," he called to the back room. "Mr. Ollivander."

The old wizard limped out to the front of the store. "Ah, Mr. du'Gall. I'm afraid I have not yet managed to procure any wands from afar," he apologized. Markus set the loaner wand on the counter with a galleon. "Sir, I would like to take the Rite of Initiation," Markus stated boldly. Ollivander's eyes narrowed.

"What?" he asked, shocked.

"I said, I would like to take the Rite of Initiation," he repeated.

"You realize that not only is this a forgotten ritual, it is also very dangerous, hence the forgotten part? Well, if you're sure," he replied, noticing Markus' determined look. "Lets see," the old man said, glancing at a calendar. "Today is the 29th of June, Hogwarts letters are usually sent around the 12th of July, Most new students don't arrive for their wands until late July to early August, I think that we should be fine," he mused. He started opening the drawers under the cabinet. "Ah yes, here we are, and handed Markus an ancient stone knife. "We aren't allowed wands for this," he explained. "You are going to have to acquire the core for your wand, and then find a tree that will bind with it, that is what the rite entails. Normally, only wandmaker's apprentices undergo the rite, but now that you mention it, it's perfect, in fact its genious."

* * *

For two weeks they had camped out in some long forgotten forest, stalking magical creatures. So far, they had seen two phoenixes, a dragon, and eight unicorns. Ollivander had managed to collect a veritable amount of cores, but Markus had yet to find one that seemed right. Ollivander explained that it could take quite a bit of time to find a creature that seemed right. Another day of stalking and gathering lay ahead of them. At least his nightmares had subsided for now. He didn't wake up wanting to scream any more.

Ollivander gestured to him, motioning to a unicorn eating some berries. Markus approached it carefully. The females were known to be quite vicious to men, as he had found out. One chased him around the forest for an hour, before deciding to go away. This one, however was male. He picked one of the berries and held it out to the beatiful animal. It ate the berry and let Markus pet it. He patted it on the head, and began to walk away. This was not the right one either.

There was a terrible scream from the sky, and Ollivander ducked behind a tree. A griffin descended from the sky and attacked the noble unicorn, its claws rend its flesh as if it were silk. It turned towards Markus and growled menacingly. Angered, Markus pulled his knife. Distantly, he heard Ollivander ask himself what he was going to tell Dumbledore.

Markus tackled the winged beast, throwing it off balance. It ended up on top, with its paws on Markus' chest. He struggled, slashing at the beasts legs. It took flight, landing on the opposite side of the clearing. They charged each other, the griffin rearing up on his hind legs at the last minute. Markus just barely managed to catch the flailing arms and claws. The murderous creature roared in his face, and Markus did the only thing he could think of. He bit it on the nose.

Surprised, the winged lion yelped and backed away. Markus slowly approached the passified animal. It growled, but didn't attack. Markus smiled, and then touched one of its pinion feathers. It growled again, but two of the feathers fell out, one golden, the other crimson. "Umm, thank you," Markus said, shocked. He scratched the underside of the griffin's head, and it made the strangest sound Markus had ever heard. It was as if it had tried to purr in pleasure and growl angrily at him. Markus pat it on the head, much to its dismay, and it flew off.

"Sir, I think I found a core that feels right," Markus called out to Ollivander, who was still hiding behind a tree.

"Yes, erm, well, its a little unorthodox, certainly isn't something I would have tried to put in a wand, but if you are satisfied with that, then we can proceed to the next step," he answered, not knowing what to make of the encounter. "You need to find a tree to bind the core to. I have a grove for doing that back in England." As they turned to leave, Markus kneeled next to the unicorn. Surprisingly, it was stil just alive. Weakly, it neighed beneath his touch.

* * *

"I understand what you want," Markus told it. "Rest in peace, pure one." It neighed its thanks. Markus put his hand on the horn, and the horn detached. Markus, tears in eyes, slit the magnificent creature's throat. He then cut off the tail hairs and entwined them around the conical horn. "Let's go," he whispered.

Ollivander's grove was enormous. Any type of tree that Markus could think of grew there. Markus walked through the rows of trees, searching for the one that felt right. He stopped at one, smiled, and pressed the golden griffin feather to the tree, and backed off as the wood began to grow around it. Markus watched amazed, while Ollivander showed no such emotion. When it finished, he said, "Grasp it firmly, and let the tree release it." Markus did just that. "12 and a half inches, apple and griffin feather, Mr. du'Gall," he said officially. "May I?" Markus held out the new wand. "Interesting, very interesting. I've heard tales, but I have never, not once, seen a wand with such a peculiar form. See here, and here," he tapped the top and bottom of the wand. "Its as though something is meant to go there. Your wand is, well, socketed."

"Wicked," Markus whispered.

"Unfortunately, I do believe that this would conclude our business, and so I bid you good day," he said as he walked back toward the arch that connected the grove to the back room of his shop.

"Sir, I haven't paid," Markus began.

"No, I don't think that's necessary, no not at all. You helped me gather more than enough cores to pay for the wand, and it was a pleasure to travel with you. Oh, and should you find something for those sockets, please do inform me, I'm most curious to find out what shall go there."

* * *

Markus left the shop and went to the Leaky Cauldron to reserve himself a room until the end of the summer. Tom, the barkeeper, gave him a key to room four, and Markus went upstairs to take a much needed nap.

Dear Albus,

You asked me to inform you when Markus and I returned from our trip. He is a most remarkable young man. He has managed to create his wand, and well, you can admire it when you next see him. The wand is 12 and ½ inches, with a core of griffin's feather. I will give you full details as to the effectiveness of the core when I am at the school in November.

Sincerely,

Ollivander

Of the two letters that he had received that night, this one made Dumbledore smile. He completely agreed with the wandmaker's opinion of the boy. It was good to know that he had a proper wand, but if he recalled the details of that ritual, one had to obtain the core from the beast by oneself, and without magic. He would have to remember to ask Markus about it when he got the chance. Tom had flooed earlier to inform him that Markus had indeed checked in to a room for August, as they had discussed. He turned his attention back to Harry's letter, and tried to decide what the best course of action would be. He had known that Riddle was stirring, all the signs pointed to it, though the biggest clue was Bertha Jorkin's disappearance near Albania, where he knew that Voldemort's shade had been residing. For now, though, he needed to work on the preparations for the year to come, especially with that taking place.

A/N: I was considering going all the way to Hogwarts, but that'll have to wait until another chapter. Also, I didn't feel like giving ollivander a first name. If you would be so kind as to comment, it would be much appreciated.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Markus is mine, and the other OC's are mine, but Harry Potter and co. are property of JK Rowling, as well as any of her marvelous settings.

Markus, quite bored with his surroundings, was laying on the bed in the magically enlarged and improved tent he had bought, reading his arithmancy textbook. Not knowing that it would be this boring to wait at the campsite for a week before the quidditch cup began, he had been set up and settled in with the fanatics, ministry supervisors, and workers. Today, though, the day of the main event, witches and wizards were flooding in, in what were ridiculous and almost comical attempts to dress like muggles. "No, no, like this, Mr. Weasley," a familiar voice said in a familiar exasperated tone. Markus smiled. He set down his book and went outside to greet his friends and their family.

In an almost impossible way, Mr. Weasley was struggling with the tent, and Markus suspected that without Harry's common sense and Hermione's knowledge, the tent would probably be set up upside down. "Now these poles go through the loops in the tent and connect to the anchors you just drove into the ground to hold the tent up," he directed. Hermione, not expecting anyone else to tell Mr. Weasley what to do, pivoted to find Markus standing right behind her. "Boo," he said simply.

"Markus, good to see you," she exclaimed, hugging him. He nodded to Harry, who returned the gesture, and to Ron, who was a little more hesitant about doing so.

"I'm already set up, if you want to wait in my tent," Markus gestured. Ginny and the twins quickly took him up on the offer, instead of standing out in the heat. "How was everyone's summer? More interesting than mine I hope," he asked.

"I got to tell my aunt and uncle that my godfather is a derranged maniac that would be all to willing to hex them if they were unpleasant to me," Harry said with a grin. "How was yours?"

"I got to spend the first half catching up on three years of training, and then went on a little, adventure," he hesitated, remembering some of the occurences of the strange trip. "I got a new wand," Markus exclaimed. He pulled out the applewood wand.

"Wicked," Ron and Harry said, staring at the strange wand. "Sorry," Ron apologized. "If we knew you were coming, we would've invited you to stay with us," he explained, slightly embarassed.

"A bet you learned loads at Hogwarts over the summer," Hermione chirped.

"Only you would be more interested in schoolwork," Ron complained.

Mr. Weasley had managed to get the tent up, and came over to introduce himself. "Ah, you would be the special case that the ministry has been working on. Arthur Weasley," he said, offering his hand.

"Markus du'Gall, pleasure to meet you, sir," Markus introduced himself.

"Harry, why don't you help me light the fire," Mr. Weasley said, "and Hermione, why don't you and Ginny go get some water from the stream."

"I've got plenty of water and a fire alreay," Markus interupted. "You all are more than welcome to use mine." Harry and Hermione both gave him grateful looks, and then the four went to join the others in Markus' tent. "Sorry about the books," he apologized. "Not much to do besides read," he said as he scooped up several scattered books to clear some of the chairs and tables. Hermione glanced at some of the books and frowned, not recognizing most of them.

"These aren't text books," she said, matter-of-factly. "What exactly are you studying?" she asked, eyeing a particular volume of druidic runes he had been using to help translate Merlin's journal.

"Oh, just this and that," he dodged the question. "Mostly some more interesting spellwork." Ron glanced down at the page of a countercurse book. "Interesting indeed? Have any plans for these?" he asked.

* * *

"As a matter of fact...," he trailed off.

"Hello and welcome to the Quidditch World Cup," Ludo Bagman's voice boomed. "And now, without further ado, the Irish mascots." A bunch of leprauchans began dancing around on the field. Gold began falling from the sky. Ron stuffed as much as he could into his pockets. He gave Harry a handful to repay him for the omnioculars that Harry had bought him. After a while, Bagman ushered the leprauchans off of the field. "And now, for the Bulgarian mascots." Veela began dancing provokatively around the field. Markus and Hermione looked at each other, and then at Harry and Ron who were gawking at the veela. They sighed, and then Hermione slapped Ron in the head, and Markus hit Harry in the arm.

"What the bloody hell, Hermione," Ron began.

* * *

"If you leave your mouth open, you're going to catch flies," she admonished. Ron stared at her, opened his mouth as though to protest, and then closed it again. Harry had the common sense to keep his mouth shut.

"Absolutely unbelievable, how did you two know?" Ron asked the twins.

"Silly little brother," Fred said.

"We could tell you," George said.

"But then they'd have to kill you," Markus added. "A magician never reveals his tricks."

"Right you are Markus," they said together. "Sounds like the Irish have got their pride on."

Mr. Weasley burst into the tent. "No! That's not the Irish. You have to go. What are you waiting for, RUN!" he ordered. Outside, the muggles maintaining the camp were being levitated in the sky. They looked to be in agonizing pain. Beneath them, Blacked cloaked figures with skull masks rampaged the campgrounds. "Run, you idiots, run," he ordered his friends, drawing his wand. "IGNEUS," he cursed, gesturing to one of the Death Eaters. The long black cloak immolated, and the Death Eater disapparated. Distantly he noticed that others were casting spells, but most were running in fear. Markus' blood boiled within his veins, remembering that night.

Several curses flew his way, but none were threatening to hit him. "Incarcerous, aguamenti, impedimenta, reducto, AURUS! TRONITRUS! PULSAT! TANTIBELLUS! INCISIO!" he cursed, but they just kept coming. "Crap, I didn't live this long only to die now... EXCREMENTIUM!"

"You, my son told me about you. You're nothing but mudblood scum. I'll kill you for that. Avada Kedav," a strangely familiar voice said, but something happened to spook the Death Eaters, which caused them to disapparate en masse. Looking up at the sky, he saw one of the most gruesome things imaginable. The clouds had formed a skull and a snake protruded from the mouth and coiled itself.

From around him a dozen voices yelled either stupefy or expelliarmus. He went out like a light.

"Ennervate," a cold voice said. "Did you conjure it?" the man interrogated him.

"Crouch, he's just a kid," one of the others said. "He's too young to have learned that."

"Boy, do you realize that you just broke the Statute Against Underage Magic, many times over," the first voice asked. Markus rubbed his head.

"First you hit me in the head for protecting people, then you don't even let me wake up before asking twenty questions, who the bloody hell do you think you are?" Markus retorted.

"Markus, show some respect, Mr. Crouch is the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Mr. Weasley chastised him.

"I've done nothing wrong," Markus refused. "The law clearly states that anyone in danger can use magic to protect themselves and their peers. I haven't done anything other than that," he blatantly stated.

"Relax, boy," Crouch said. "You're not in any trouble. Give him back his wand Amos. You have my respect. Few can fight the Death Eaters with any efficiency, and I know of your case. In fact, I believe I have some paperwork that is to be delivered to you on my desk."

"Sorry, sir," Markus apologized. "Stressful night," he said with a smile. "Can we go find my friends now.

For once, Markus' dreams weren't plagued with memories of that last night in Coriander. He sat alone, playing a flute. The gilded flute let out a sad, haunting melody. As the last mournful note died, Sera spoke up. "I didn't know you could play so well. That was beautiful."

"I haven't played in a while, not since before my dad died, and my mom and I moved here," Markus explained. "Its comforting though, to focus on the music." She smiled sadly at him.

Markus woke up and began to cry. As much as he missed them, he tried not to think of his precious moments with his lost. And now those memories were bursting through his defenses. He felt shattered, as if all the healing he had done in the past months had been undone in a few minutes time. But in spite of this, Markus promised that he would get a new flute and begin to play again, in Her honor.

Glancing at the clock, Markus saw that it was already five o'clock, and decided that there was no point in going back to bed. He snuck out of Ron's room carefully, as to avoid waking up Ron and Harry. Down in the kitchen, he began rummaging through the cupboards, pulling things out to make breakfast. As he began mixing ingredients, he noticed six packages, one with the name of each Hogwarts student on it, excluding him. He smiled. This gave him an excuse to go to the alley today to talk to the goblins about commisioning a flute.

He was dicing a few apples when Mrs. Weasley came down to the kitchen to start breakfast. She was appalled that a guest was cooking, but he insisted on finishing the cinnamon rolls he was making. She acquiesced, but began frying some bacon, sausage, and eggs. After a while, the others started heading downstairs. First it was Mr. Weasley, Ginny and Hermione, then Harry, followed by the the twins, Percy and Bill. Ron only came down after breakfast was finished, which Markus guessed had something to do about the smell of the food. They ate uninterrupted until Amos Diggory called on the floo. Mr. Weasley then went to work, taking a large plate of food. After they finished, Percy left for work, and Bill apparated back to Egypt where he was stationed. Ron, Harry and the twins tried to bug out to go play quidditch, but Mrs. Weasley headed them off and sent them at the garden.

After they finished, the twins asked Markus if he wanted to join them for their quidditch game. "Sorry, I need to head to Diagon Alley to get some stuff," he apologized. Hermione decided that she was going to join him, and Ginny went to ask Mrs. Weasley if she could go as well. She okayed it, but told them to be back before dark. So Markus, Ginny and Hermione flooed over to the Leaky Cauldron and proceeded into the alley. First, they went to Gringotts so that Hermione and Markus could withdraw some money.

"Ginny, would you mind going with Hermione to her vault, I have some business I need to take care of before I go down to mine?" Markus asked. She nodded, and he went stopped at a different clerk. "Good morning," he greeted the goblin.

"Ah, good morning to you too, Mr. du'Gall, I shall call Griphook for you," the goblin returned his greeting.

"Welcome to Gringotts, Mr. du'Gall," Griphook greeted him. "How may I help you?"

"I wanted to ask about commisioning a goblin forged object, if its possible," Markus answered.

"It's very well possible with the amount of gold at your disposal as heir to the Ambrosis vaults, as well as the funds in your personal vault from the seizing of your properties in the U.S. by their ministry. May I inquire as to what it is you wish to commision?"

"I would like to commision a flute out of gold and silver, with ruby and emeralds inlaid into the keys," Markus answered.

"That is a rather unusual request. Normally we are asked for armor, weapons, or jewelry," Griphook noted. "Allow me a few moments to gather the necessary paperwork. About five minutes later, he returned. All Markus had to do was sign the parchment, and then Griphook vanished it to their artisan's office. "For a proper goblin forging, it will take about a week to complete it. We will personally deliver it to you."

"My thanks, Griphook. Now, if you would be so kind, would you mind escorting me down to vault 0 please?" Markus asked. Griphook nodded and led him to one of the carts. Markus entered the vault and walked up to the ancient encased in crystal. "Hail, Merlin, grandest of sorcerors," he greeted.

"Your a rather impressive person yourself, from what I've seen," he responded. "May I?" he asked, and Markus held out his wand so that Merlin could look at it. "Impressive, a beautiful wand. Griffin feather and apple, it almost matches the wand I crafted for Antioch Peverell. But yours is fitting for you, a balance between a weapon, and a tool, where the elder wand was all weapon."

"Yes, I'm rather partial to it," Markus said fondly.

"Now, then, if you wouldn't mind, being my age takes a toll on a man, I think I will take a nap," he dismissed his heir, his eyes closing once more. Before leaving, Moro grabbed near a hundred of each coin, as well as a handful of beautiful gems for the artisan to work into the flute.

"All finished then, Mr. du'Gall?" Griphook asked. Markus nodded and they climbed onto the cart and rocketed back up to the surface where Ginny and Hermione were waiting for him. First, they went to the apothecary so he could get his potions ingredients, along with those for some of the advanced potions. Then they proceeded to Madam Malkin's, where he was, horrifyingly enough, their dress up doll as they decided what sort of dress robes he looked best in. He ended up in a set of black robes chased with silver on the sleeves and an emerald front (similar to a vest for a tux). Ginny remarked how his were much better than the second hand pair that Mrs. Weasley had picked out for Ron. Markus, ever the schemer, ordered Ginny to pick some out for herself as well, despite the fact that they were not required for her year. Finally, they proceeded to the shop that Markus and Ginny had dreaded most, Flourish and Blotts. Markus quickly found his books, and Ginny decided to grab a few as well, but Hermione had to literally be dragged away from the bookcases. Even so, she ended up with a stack half again the size of his, and he had books on spells that Hogwarts didn't cover. After they finished shopping, the stopped at Fortesque's for ice cream before heading back to the Burrow, just as the sun touched the horizon.

* * *

"But how can they not know who conjured it?" Hermione asked as the train sped away. "Didn't they have security at the cup?"

"Loads," Ron answered between bites of food. "Thats why the ministry is so upset. They haven't got a clue. Dad says the ministry has been flooded with owls about the whole fiasco."

Harry cringed, his hand unconsciously jumping up to his scar. "Its hurting again," he muttered.

"You should write to Sirius, Harry," Hermione scolded him. "He'd want to know, about your scar, and what you saw at the world cup."

"But thats just it, Hermione. I didn't see much at the cup," Harry retorted. "It was dark and he was too far away. Besides, if I write to Sirius, he'll just come back, and its too dangerous for him to risk it."

"Harry, she's right," Markus sighed. "Remember, he is, well, was a fully trained auror, he's quite capable of taking care of himself, here or otherwise. And if he's here, he'll be able to keep an eye on you. Besides, I think he's been writing to Dumbledore as well, so he probably already knows."

Just then, Malfoy and his goons made their annual disturbance on the train. "Ugh, it smells even more like mudblood in here now," He drawled. "Don't you have any dignity Potter?"

Ron reached for his wand, but Harry and Hermione held him back. "Are you really complaining about how Hermione and I smell?" Markus began. "From what I've seen, your sidekicks there can't even control their bodily functions."

This caused Crabbe and Goyle to try to rush forward, only to be stopped by a squeak from Malfoy. They glanced in stupidly to find Markus' wand in between his eyes. "Come, come on, Crabbe, Goyle, I think I'm catching mudblood."

* * *

"Sorry, Malfoy, but that might actually make you a decent person, unless you intended to insult yourself, of course," Harry countered, causing his muggle born friends to smile.

The sorting was finished and the headmaster stood to make some announcements. "Welcome back, children, teachers, Messrs," he began, "Before we eat, I have some beginning of term announcements. First," he glanced over at an empty chair amongst the staff, "this year, I am sad to say, we will not have our annual quidditch cup." He paused to allow the students to throw a fit about that. "Instead, Hogwarts will be hosting a legendary event," he paused, for dramatic effect. "The Triwizard Cup. And as such, we will be hosting two additional schools, Durmstrang Institute For Magical Learning and Beauxbaton's Academy of Magic. I implore you to treat these other students as you would your own housemates. But we'll go into further detail about that later. Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that spells are not to be cast in the corridors, and that the list of forbidden items has been extended and is currently posted on the door to his office."

At that moment, a grizzled man with an electric blue fake eye and a peg leg hobbled into the hall. "It is my great pleasure to announce your new Defense teacher, Alastor Moody." Said new professor hobbled up to the teachers' table, stopping only to glare at a certain ferretlike Slytherin, and drinking deeply from his flask.

"That's Mad-Eye Moody, the one Dad went to help out the other day," Ron whispered. "What do you suppose he's drinking?"

"I don't know, but something tells me that it isn't pumpkin juice," Harry replied.

* * *

The door to the Defense classroom burst open and spells started flying. Malfoy was hit first, with a full body bind, causing him to fall roughly out of his seat, followed shortly after by his goons. Then it was Pavarti and Lavender, struck with a jelly legs jinx after they stood up following the attack on Malfoy. By this point the students were fumbling for their wands. Hermione and Ron were struck towards the end, leaving only Markus and Harry trying to defend themselves against Moody's attacks. Markus managed to stay up due to the shield charm, and Harry used his seeker skills to dodge the spellfire. Markus got in front of Harry and nodded to him. Harry began casting spells around the shield that Markus was struggling to keep up to protect them from Moody's onslaught, but the ex-auror dodged any and all spells sent his way. After a particularly fierce stunner shattered Markus' shield and took him down, Harry ended up pinned against the wall with nowhere to go, and was hit with a stinging hex.

After freeing everyone from the various spells, Moody asked. "So then, who can tell me what went wrong with that?"

"We took too long to get our wands out?" one of the Slytherins answered.

"Not quite. No one in here was prepared to be attacked. Do you think that You-Know-Who and his death eaters care that you were in a lesson? Or that you were having coffee with your girlfriend? NO. They used every advantage available to them. If this was an attack, you would all be dead right now." He paused to take a drink from his flask. "Now then, before we get down to business, five points each to Mr. Potter and Mr. du'Gall for managing to last as long as they did, and another ten points for exellent coordination on the battlefield." He flicked his wand at the chalkboard, and a piece of chalke began spelling something out. "The Unforgivable Curses, who can tell me why they are named so? Ah, yes, go ahead Miss Granger."

"Because they are unforgivable. The use of any of them will result in a-"

"One way ticket to Azkaban, correct," he finished for her. "Now, who can name one of the curses?" To no one's surprise, Hermione raised her hand, but the hands of Fon and Neville did surprise them. "Go ahead, Mr. Weasley."

"My dad told me about one, the Imperious curse, I think he said it was," Ron said proudly.

"Yes, your father would know about that one. Perhaps it would be better to demonstrate what it does," Moody said, reaching into a jar of tarantulas. "Imperio." The spider began to follow the movements of Moody's wand, jumping from desk to desk, landing on Malfoy's nose, Ron's head, Pansy's arm, before he jerked it back. "Talented isn't she? What should I have her do next? Drown herself? Throw herself out the window?" With each idea, he flicked the wand to make it seem like he would. "Countless witches and wizards claimed only to do You-Know-Who's bidding under the influence of the imperious curse. So the problem is, how do we sort out the bewitched from the scum?" he said with a bit of a growl. "You boy, you knew another, didn't you?" he gestured at Neville.

"Um, yeah, there's the, um, Cruciatus Curse," he stuttered.

Moody nodded. "Yes, the torture curse. You don't need knives and thumbtacks to torture your opponents if you can use this one. The spider will need to be a bit bigger for you to see the effects of this one. Engorgio. Crucio." The spider tripled in size, making Ron turn a very clashing shade of green, and then fell over and began twitching. With each twitch of the spider, Neville jerked just as violently. Less noticeably, Markus' grip on his wand tightened until he couldn't stand it anymore. Moody just stared at the spider as if he was enjoying it.

Markus had had enough. "Reducto," he cursed coldly, a unusually blinding flash erupting from his wand. The curse hit the spider and exploded it. Moody didn't seem to notice at first, but then, just for a second, seemed to pout as if he had lost his favorite toy. "That's sick," Markus scolded.

"Erm, right then," Moody regained his composure, wiping spider guts off his face. "The last curse, Miss Granger?"

"Avada Kedavra," Hermione whispered sorrowfully, "the killing curse."

"Yes," Moody replied, pulling out another spider. "Avada Kedavra." The spider fell over, instantly dead. "The killing curse. Its unblockable, unstoppable, and has killed better witches and wizards than many of you will ever hope to become. Only one person has ever survived it, and he's sitting in this very room, and no one knows how," he elaborated, his voice growing ever darker. "Right then, I want an essay on Mr. Potter and Mr. du'Gall's tactic, the advantages, the weaknesses, whatever you can think of. Mr. du'Gall, Mr. Longbottom if you wouldn't mind staying behind, class dismissed."

* * *

"That was wicked," Ron described.

\ "Wicked, don't you mean terrible?" Hermione argued. "There's a reason why those curses are forbidden. I mean, did you see the look on Neville's face. And it was like, Moody enjoyed it all."

"Yeah, I mean, that was terrible and all, but then Markus hit the spider with that curse and it exploded all over Moody's face," Ron continued his praise.

"Would you two stop bickering like a married couple," Harry stopped them, making them blush.

"I hope Markus doesn't get in too much trouble for interrupting," Hermione broke the awkward silence. "At least he can do his own homework, unlike some people I know. Anyways, we need to get ready for the welcoming ceremony before dinner, so we'll have to ask him later."

* * *

* * *

Markus and Neville joined the rest of the school outside waiting for the other schools to arrive. They got in line next to the trio. McGonagall was coaching her students on how to act. "Miss Patil, get that ridiculous thing out of your hair. Mr. Longbottom, under no circumstances whatsoever, should you let a Durmstrang student know that you cannot perform a simple switching spell, are we clear. Mr. Potter, I'm not even going to bother. Mr. Weasley stand up straight and tuck in your shirt. Miss Granger, it is considered rude to lecture students from a different school. Mr. du'Gall, five points to Griffindor and detention for standing up to a teacher to protect a student. Miss Brown, act like a proper lady. Mr. Thomas, Mr. Finnigan, act your age. Messrs. Weasley, if I hear anything about you pranking one of the foreign students, I'll let Filch hang you by your ankles in the dungeon. Ms. Johnson, despite how good Mr. Potter may be on a broom, do not brag about it to the Durmstrang students. Mr. Creevey, I told you to leave your camera in your dormitory. Boys, do not harass the Beauxbaton's girls. Girls, Do not harass the Durmstrang boys. Miss Granger, share the library books. Mr. Potter, it is impolite to hex someone because they asked to see your scar. Mr. Weasley, try not to eat like a pig. Mr. Longbottom, your ability to make any potion you try to brew explode is NOT a talent. Mr. du'Gall, do not transfigure things into animals to chase students down just because you can, my office still has black spots on the floor from the snakes. Weasleys, do not call the Durmstrang wizards dark because they are taught the dark arts as well as defense. Miss Weasley, do not let the Beauxbaton's girls catching you stalking Mr. Potter. Messrs, I DO NOT want to hear your ample repetoire of disgusting magical and school related pick-up lines. No singing crude songs about Mr. Potter, or blaming Peeves for writing them. No telling them that it is polite to bring the Headmaster a pair of gaudy socks before sitting down to eat dinner. Do not inform anyone that Mr. Potter can talk to snakes, and most certainly do not try to make him demonstrate said ability to talk to snakes. Do NOT create a gambling pot on who will die in the first task. Do not distribute any of your candies. Do not offer to get other students smashed so that one of the foreign students can get "lucky". Under no circumstances are you to talk to Peeves while the other schools are here. Do not send the Beauxbaton's girls love notes from the Slytherins. Do not brew veritaserum and slip it into ANYONE'S drink. Do not tell anyone to ask Professor Snape when the last time he washed his hair was. Do not make joke's about Professor Flitwick's goblin heritage. If I catch anyone calling me Minnie, I will personally transfigure you into mice and hunt you down. Do not challenge the Durmstrang students to a drinking competition, they will drink you under the table. Do not make mention of Madame Maxine's large size, and do NOT try to set her up with Hagrid. Karkaroff is not to be mentioned as Snape's pillow buddy because they were both tried as death eaters once. Professor Dumbledore will not put in a good word with the Goblet of Fire for them if they sleep with him. Only I am allowed to bewitch the suits of armor. Do not ask the Beauxbaton's girls for French lessons. Do not tell them that Mr. Diggory sparkles in the sunlight. Do not make Mr. Diggory sparkle in the sunlight. Do not tell anyone that the Whomping Willow just needs a hug. Whatever problems you may have with Mr. Bagman, do not enlist people to attack him. Do not ask Mr. Crouch if your brother has popped the question yet. On that same note, do not ask if they are sleeping together. Do not ask Minister Fudge for fudge. Do not say that the Black Lake is a swimming pool, and do not say that your having a wild party at midnight in the Forbidden Forest. Do not charm snowballs to attack people, do not flood the halls, do not sicc Moaning Myrtle on anyone, INCLUDING Mr. Potter.

_**Meanwhile**_

"Students of Hogwarts, please join me in greeting the proud sons of Durmstrang, and their headmaster, Igor Karkaroff," Dumbledore announced as a ship burst out of the Black Lake.

"Blimey, Harry, do you see that? He's here, its Viktor Krum. I didn't know he was still in school."

"Harry, would you mind singing along?" Markus asked. "I'd ask Gred and Forge, but they're too busy distracting McGonagall.

"I'd be glad to. Hermione, would you do the honors of counting us off?"

_"Viktor I Love you, Viktor I do, _

_ Whether apart or together my heart beats only for you._

_ Yes, oh Viktor I Love you, Viktor I do_

_ Viktor, I'll always be true."_

Ron glared at them angrily. Luckily, McGonagall never stopped her rant. "And now, the lovely ladies of Beauxbaton's, and their headmistress, Madame Maxine." They disembarked from their flying carriages and began walking towards where the Professor Dumbledore was waiting. One girl stopped to glare at Markus angrily.

"Looks like your making friends already, mate," Ron commented after she was out of earshot.

"Shut up Ron, McGonagall wouldn't even notice if I hexed you right now."

Do not tell them that Hagrid has a cerberus named Fluffy that would love to play with them. Do not tell them that we have an enormous Devil's Snare growing in the school. Do not tell them about the giant chess board, or the Mirror of Erised. Do not tell them that you can get them into the Chamber of Secrets, and there is no such thing as the Chamberpot of Secrets. Do not get the house elves to sing We are Santa's Elves for the holidays, with them referring to Professor Dumbledore as Santa Claus. Do not threaten them with former Pofessor Lupin. Do not mention Gilderoy Lockhart, do not mention that You-Know-Who was growing out of the back of Professor Quirrell's head, Do not tell anyone that they have to leave candy outside the third floor corridor on the right side. Do not mention the acromantula colony in the forest. Do not mention the basilisk attacks unless asked about them. As clever as it may be, you cannot make a yellow brick road for the final task, nor change the final task so the way to the center is to always turn right. Do not mention your father's flying car, or the fact that it has taken on sentience and is living out the rest of its days in the Forbidden Forest. Do not make catchy nicknames for all of the Griffindors. Do not tell anyone that the Headmaster loves the odd flavor Berty Botts Every Flavor Beans, because he doesn't. Do not flaunt your record as rule breakers, nor that of your idols, the Maruaders. Do not say that the centaurs will let people ride them. Do not fire your version of the Dark Mark into the sky. The Honeydukes owner will not sing the Candy Man Can song. Do not attempt to force the Hogwarts champion to sing I've Got a Golden Ticket. Do not make Mr. Malfoy sing I've Got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts. Do not mess with the ceiling of the Great Hall so that it rains gumballs. Eating Acid Pops is not a demonstration of how manly you are. Do not inform people that your visit to Hogwarts isn't complete until you've been sent to the hospital wing. Do not send anyone to the Hospital Wing. Do not use Mr. Potter's Invisibility cloak. Do not say that I go crazy for catnip. Do not make a betting pool on what will happen to Mr. Potter this year. Professor Snape is not a judge, nor does he frame people to steal their wives. That is not how Lily and James Potter died, and if you insinuate that it is, I will let Harry curse you until he feels you have paid for your actions. Bellatrix Lestrange did not go to Azkaban for cooking people in meat pies. Do not tell people to ask Professor Trenawley how they are going to die."

"Dearest Minnie," Fred began. "We would never have thought of half of those things."

"Furthermore, kitten," George continued. "Shouldn't we head back inside with the other houses, Beauxbaton's, and Durmstrang?" McGonagall turned around to see the others heading back up to the school. And so it came to pass that the house of Griffindor became the rear guard for all visitors at the school of Hogwarts.

* * *

"Now, for those of you who don't know, the Triwizard Cup is a legendary event between our three schools. Eternal glory, thats what awaits the the champion who claims this chalice of victory, as well as a prize of 1000 galleons. Those who wish to enter should put their name into the Goblet of Fire by November the First, but do not do so lightly, for these challenges are not for the faint of heart. People die in this tournament. Due to that, we have added several new rules, which Mr. Crouch, the Head of the Department of International Cooperation, will explain to you.

Dumbledore nodded to a graying old man, who stepped forward. "Due to the danger of this tournament, it has been decided that no student under the age of seventeen shall be allowed to enter."

The Hogwarts students were enraged by this, many protesting the rule. "SILENCE," Dumbledore ordered, and the students obeyed. "The champions well be chosen on the first of November. Until then, good night, and good luck."

"Wow, a thousand galleons and eternal glory," Ron drooled. "Its a shame we can't enter, huh, Harry?"

"Yes Ron, what a shame," Harry replied sarcastically. "We can't volunteer to get chased by monsters and who knows what this year, pity."

"Just imagine what you could do with a thousand galleons."

"Like what Ron? Would you buy yourself a set of new dress robes, to replace your frilly red ones?" Hermione joked.

"Dearest little brother," Fred started. "If wishes were fishes."

"But alas, they are not," George finished. "We're all too young to enter," he sighed wispfully.

* * *

"And now that we are all well fed, I believe that the Goblet of Fire is ready to announce the Champions. If I call your name, please proceed to the adjoing room, just over there," Dumbledore's voice boomed. The flames from the goblet spat out a piece of parchment. "The Durmstrang Champion shall be Viktor Krum." The student body cheered loudly, none surprised. The flames roared once more. "The Beauxbaton's will be, Fleur Delacour." They clapped politedly.

"Look, they all seem disappointed," Hermione noted as the flames rose once more.

"Hey, Markus, its your friend," Ron added. Markus reached for his wand and Ron quickly apologized.

"The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory. Well done champions," he began, but was cut off by Snape shaking his arm and pointing back at the goblet. Dumbledore snatched a piece of paper out of the air and read it aloud. "Harry Potter. HARRY POTTER," he said, Harry not knowing what to do. As Harry stood up, the goblet of fire spat flames out that spelled out, "The champion of Merlin shall be Markus du'Gall."

Markus read this, smacked his forhead, and mumbled something that sounded like, "Merlin, you bloody tossing bastard." He stood up, and followed Harry into the adjacent room with the other champions.

A/N: Sorry, I've been distracted. I shouldn't have started another fic until finished this one, but right now i'm inspired. Also, I got a little carried away with McGonagall's monologue. Some of those things are borrowed from other places.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Harry Potter Belongs to J.K. Rowling, who, last I checked, I am not.

_Entry 1 in the Journal of Supreme Mugwump Merlin_

_ The land is so peaceful with the tribes currently at peace. It is truly a wonderful thing. But I fear for how long it shall last. A bird from the mainland towards the south told of a disturbing tale. Legions are coming, conquering all in their path, plundering, conquering, and "civilizing" the land. And my friend the merlin, alas the irony, says that druids lead them, guiding them, protecting them, fighting beside them. My friend has promised to keep me informed, and although the mass of these "legionaires" do not know the meaning of surrender, they are currently holed up for the winter. If the tidings should turn foul in the spring, I personally shall go to repulse these invaders, and teach them why all fear the wrath of a high druid. Even so, I feel a bit of anticipation, as if the calm now is merely that, the calm before the storm..._

"What ees eet? Do the want us to return?" Fleur asked. Harry was speechless, but Markus shook his head no, and began an intense glare fight with Fleur, who looked like she wanted to tear his head off.

"Unbelievable," Bagman began. "Simply unbelievable. May I present to you the unprecedented fourth champion, as well as the rare ocurrence of the Champion of Merlin."

"Vhat?" Krum asked outraged. "These, children, are going to compete vith us?" Just then the headmasters, Crouch, Moody, Snape and McGonagall entered.

"Harry, did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire," Dumbledore asked, grabbing him by the front of his robes.

"No, sir, I didn't."

"Did you ask one of the older students to do it for you?"

"No sir, I wouldn't."

"Well of course 'e is lying," Madame Maxine interrupted. "Who wouldn't want the chance to compete?"

"I wouldn't," Markus answered. "I'm not stupid enough to risk my life for fortune and glory."

"Sorry, I'm more famous than I want to be already," Harry added.

"That ees ridiculous," Fleur came to Madame Maxine's defense. "People would die to for a chance to compete."

"Maybe that's just what they are hoping for," Moody spoke up. "Dumbledore's age line was perfect, and the Goblet won't accept anyone's name except for the person entering it. It would take an exceptionally strong confundus charm to fool a powerful artifact like the Goblet of Fire, magic way beyond that of a fourth year, no offense Mr. Potter, Mr. du'Gall."

"None taken, professor," they replied.

"That's proposterous. Why are we even listening to this. We all know Mad-eye considers his morning wasted if he hasn't found at least seven assassination attempts."

"I was once my job to think as dark wizards do, Karkaroff, maybe you remember that," Moody threatened the man in his face.

"This is an outrage. Hogwarts cannot have three champions. I demand that you set up the goblet again until we all have three champions, or else," Karkaroff began.

"Or what? You'll leave? Sorry, but the Goblet of Fire represents a binding magical contract. Anyone whose name comes out of that cup has to compete. Don't believe me? Ask Bagman or Crouch, they know the book forward and back," Moody interrupted him. Said officials nodded.. "If anyone should be complaining about this, it should be Potter or du'Gall, who didn't get a choice in the matter."

"Headmaster, if I may?" Snape began. "Right now, it is, unclear, why Potter's name came out of the cup. For now, I think it would be best if we simply, allowed matters to unfold."

McGonagall looked ready to deck the man. "Let them unfold? Potter is a boy, not a piece of meat?"

"I agree, with Severus, Minerva," Dumbledore said tiredly. "For now, it would be best if our champions got some rest," he dismissed them, Karkaroff and Maxine grabbing their champions and guiding them out.

* * *

"So how did you do it?" Cedric asked. "I mean, it has to have been impressive, like Moody said."

"I didn't," Harry repeated. "I don't want eternal fame and glory."

"Well, suit yourself then, I guess i'll see you around." He left for the Hufflepuff dorms.

Harry sighed. "No one believes me that I didn't put my name in that cup."

"I do," Markus replied. "At least I don't have that problem."

"What does it mean, champion of Merlin?

"Its when the cup feels someone should have entered, but didn't. It forces them to compete, like Moody said. Normally it only happens when someone dies during the first or second task, though. Of the three other times its happened, one died, one was crippled, and the last eventually commited suicide with the killing curse, after all the other champions had died."

"Wow, sounds like something that would happen to me," Harry replied gloomly.

"You know, you shouldn't be such a downer, it darkens your whole outlook on life," Markus joked.

"So does having someone intent on murdering you," Harry retorted.

* * *

"Touche," Markus agreed.

As they climbed the staircase that led up towards Griffindor tower, they found someone lying in wait. "May I have a word?" the Beauxbaton's champion asked, looking at Markus.

He nodded. "Go on ahead, Harry, I'll see you up in the tower." They waited until Harry was out of sight, and then Fleur smacked him viciously. "How can I help you, milady veela?" he responded with more than a slight bit of venom and malice in his voice.

"So, you knew? Then you also know that veela feed on emotion, or a particular emotion," she smacked him again as he nodded.

"Madam Delacour, if you keep this up people are going to say we are a rowing couple," Markus nursed his rather red cheek. "Yes, I am aware that veela feed on the lust that their presence invokes."

"Do you realize the pain that you put a veela through by blocking your emotions as you are doing so callously?" she spat.

"Do not judge me, miss, you know nothing of me. You wish to have a taste of my emotions, very well then," Markus matched her ire, lowering his mental wards. Through sheer mental force he managed not to let the unleashed emotions touch him. Fleur went to scream, but Markus clapped his hand over her mouth. He quickly rebottled his pain, and removed his hand from her mouth. She leaned against the staircase and looked as if she was about to be sick. "Now do you understand, why when I recognized what you were, why I cut you off from my emotions?" he asked.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, barely managing to hold back the tears that burned her eyes at this boy's pain. "Good, then, I don't think we will have to have this conversation again?" he asked, to which she also nodded. "Then allow me to walk you back to the Ravenclaw dorms, I believe that that is where the Beauxbaton's students are staying?" She gave a small, tight-lipped smile for his offer. He lent her his arm to lean on, and they then departed. When they reached the door to the common room, Markus grabbed the knocker with his spare hand.

The eagle's head woke up. "Don't remember you," it scolded. "Ah, well, anyways, If a time turner can turn back time, why can't it turn time forward?"

"While the past has occurred, and therefore cannot be changed, the future is infinitely variable. For each choice we make, the path the future follows can split an infinite number of times. Even with the aid of prophecy and seers, who can see a possible outcome, until we have acted upon a choice, the future is intangible. Furthermore, pulling one's self an hour into the future breaks yourself from existence," Markus answered.

"Acceptable. Your speculation at the end leaves one with much to think on," it replied as it swung open.

"Good night, Miss Delacour, and good luck," Markus said, turning to leave.

* * *

_Mean_while in the _Griffindor boy's dor_m

"I didn't put my name in that cup Ron," Harry said, clearly pissed.

"Whatever, just would've thought you would've told your best friend how to do it," Ron muttered as he threw his dirty clothes in a pile.

"Your being stupid, Ron," Harry replied.

"Yeah, that's me, I guess. Famous Harry Potter's stupid friend, huh?"

Harry didn't bother to respond, he just tossed his glasses on the nightstand and angrily laid down to sleep, facing away from Ron's bed.

"Then again, I guess you did tell someone, didn't you?" Ron continued. "You hardly even know him, and you tell him over me."

Markus entered just in time to hear this. His wand was in his hand and pointed in between Ron's eyes before Ron even noticed, and he began stuttering in fear. "DO YOU THINK BEFORE YOU OPEN YOUR MOUTH, WEASLEY? I SUGGEST YOU SHUT UP AND GO TO SLEEP, BEFORE I HEX YOU!" he roared. Quieter, he carried on. "If you are so eager to die, then I hear there's a nice colony of acromantulas that miss you, because death is all that waits in this tournament if the contestants aren't careful." Ron went deathly pale at the mention of the giant spideres and immediately quieted down. Markus soundproofed his curtains with a quick spell before laying down and pulling them tight.

The next morning, Ron chose not to grace Harry and Markus, who were receiving odd glares from the rest of the students. When Hermione entered, coming from an early morning research session in the library, she glanced from Harry to Ron, torn between where to go. Markus chose then to stand and walk out, leaving Hermione an empty seat. "Would you just talk to him?" she asked.

"About what, Hermione? I tried, but he wouldn't listen. What do you want me to say, that I'm sorry that someone has it in for me, instead of him?" Harry replied heatedly. "If he wants to act like a git, then let him."

"You know he's just jealous," she huffed. "Fortune and fame, the two things he wants most of all, and the triwizard's tournament is the perfect way to get them. And even after it was supposed to be out of our reach, your name still came out of that cup, and then Markus' as well. By the way, did the judges tell you what that meant, the whole champion of Merlin thing?" she continued.

"I'm not sure, but Markus didn't seem to pleased about it," was all Harry had to say about it.

"All the books that the library had only mentioned it in passing. It's supposed to be some sort of weird circumstancial rule, but the books wouldn't go into details."

"Markus seems to know, why don't you go ask him?" Harry suggested.

"Maybe I will. What were you talking about, anyways?"

" Fleur wanted to talk to him last night. She cut us off on our way back to the tower last night, and Markus had a private word with her before walking her to the Ravenclaw tower," Harry explained.

"Markus and Fleur? Are they a couple?" she asked with a bit of hunger for knowledge in her voice.

"I don't think so, there was just a slight misunderstanding that she wanted to clear up, but he did mention something about his cheek hurting, and he caught her eye as she walked in for breakfast this morning," Harry elaborated.

"I wonder what they could've done to make each other angry when they've never met? Hermione badgered.

"He didn't go into details, he just said that she had some sort of condition, and something he was doing bothered her, but they resolved the issue," Harry answered.

Hermioned, now finished with breakfast, gathered her stuff and stood up. "I'm going to find Markus, remember, we're studying antidotes in double potions today." Harry groaned, finishing his food, and going to get his potions stuff from the dorms.

Potions was, as usual, a nightmare. Snape planned on poisoning one of them, and testing the antidote they had concocted to cure it. Judging by the looks he was giving him, Harry knew that he was the one Snape planned on poisoning. Luckily, Colin Creevey interrupted class halfway through. "Professor Snape, sir, Harry and Markus are needed upstairs for the Weighing of the Wands ceremony," the boy delivered his message.

"Very well then. Potter, leave your things out, we'll test your antidote when you return," Snape ordered.

"But sir, I was told that they should bring their stuff, since the ceremony will take until dinner," Colin stated.

"Fine. Potter, du'Gall, pack your things and get our," Snape said, looking disappointed. Needless to say, both boys quickly packed their bags and left posthaste. Colin led them up to an unused classroom, where Mr. Ollivander, a cameraman, and a woman dressed in a horrid, acid green, disgustingly form-hugging, low cut dress. Markus coughed something that sounded rather rude.

Shortly after they entered, Bagman burst through the door. "Right then, now that everyone is here, we can begin. Mr. Ollivander, would you be so kind?"

The old man nodded and held his hand out for Krum's wand. With an understandable reluctancy, he handed it over. "This is a Gregorovitch wand. A little darker than I prefer to make them, but, to each his own, I suppose." He filled a goblet with water and drank heavily. "Yes, hornbeam and dragon heartstring, rather rigid, but in perfect working order," he pronounced, handing the wand back. "Miss Delacour, if you wouldn't mind?" he asked, taking the already offered wand. "Oh my, veela hair, and rosewood, I believe."

Fleur nodded. "It was one of my grandmuzzer's," she added.

"I see. Normally I do not use veela hair, in part due to the side effects it has one the donor, but also because I find it to be a tad bit tempermental. Nevertheless," he made a bouquet of flowers and handed them to Fleur. "It is in perfect working order."Mr. Diggory, if you would? Ah, yes, one of my own. Ash and unicorn hair. I remember that his particular one nearly gored me after I plucked its tail. It's still in excellent condition too."

"I polish it every night, sir," Cedric replied.

"You'll find that it works just as well as the day you bought it. And now, Mr. Potter." He took Harry's slightly soiled wand. "Holly and phoenix feather, and traces of something unfamiliar? Rather interesting, Mr. Potter, it seems you've been having some rather intriguing adventures, if my suspicions are to be correct. But still, it is in perfect condition, and if you give me just a moment, I can have it looking good as new." Harry nodded, and the aged wandmaker went to a small workstation, where he cleaned, polished, and protected Harry's wand. "And last, but certainly not least, and if I must say so myself, my personal favorite of you all, Markus du'Gall. I realize that it has only been but a few months, but ceremony dictates that I check your wand, I'm afraid. Yes, your own custom-made apple and griffin. Still a strikingly odd combination, and yet, ever so eficient in ways even I do not completely comprehend. You'll be pleased to hear that I sold several of the unicorn hair wands that you helped me gather this summer. Though I haven't been able to bond that other feather as of yet, but never fear, I've never failed in my work." He waved the wand, and the color of the the woman's dress changed to a aqua. "Your wand is clear for performance, Mr. du'Gall. Now if you'll excuse me," he said, pushing his way out of the classroom.

The woman, who had restored the color of her dress, introduced herself as Rita Skeeter of the Daily Prophet, and lined them up for a picture, with Viktor and Cedric in the back, Harry in the center, and Markus and Fleur on each side. When they finished, she grabbed Harry, announced that she was going to do an interview with the champions, and dragged Harry into a broom closet while they waited for Mr. Crouch. Hearing something akin to Harry's outrage, Markus tried the door to the closet, to find it crudely locked, but nothing that an Alohamora didn't fix. Silently, he crept into the closet and read over Ms. Skeeter's (as he was horribly sure that the skank, as he had taken to thinking of her as, would likely never be married) shoulder. As she asked Harry questions about his past that had little fact and less relevence behind them, her acid green quill jotted down some notes beside her. Markus made sure to question Harry about the ghosts of his past bringing tears to his eyes later, he drew his wand and first incinerated the libelous quill, and then the parchment it had befouled, before turning it on the harlot herself.

"I don't know where you get off, Ma'am, but where I'm from, that's called libel, and its highly punishable, even if written in a rag like your column," Markus sneered, his wand pointed as high up on her chest as possible with out it being in her cleavage.

"My, my, what an interesting turn of events this is," Skeeter smiled, her horribly twisted mind already making a story out of this. "Tell me, Mr., what was your name again? How would you describe your relationship with Mr. Potter, here," she asked.

"Platonic, madam. And if your article is anything like what you wrote after the Quidditch Cup, then I believe you will find yourself in need of a new job, and a body, and a home, as well."

"My readers just want the story, and I do whatever it takes to get it," she said, smiling like a wolf at a rabbit.

"Be that as it may, should you imply anything scandalous about myself or Mr. Potter, you'll find that even the ministry cannot protect you from the old laws, which magic itself is bound to," Markus threatened. "I suggest you find a new story." Skeeter harrumphed, pouted, and tried a bit of sexual appeal that made Markus feel rather like puking on her. When all else failed, she stomped out of the broom closet that was abnormally large, them shortly behind her. She quickly motioned for the photographer to follow her as she stomped out of the room. "Particularly nasty little cockroach, that one," Markus jested to the other champions.

Cedric nodded in agreement. "She wrote that nasty article about the Cup, too."

Mr. Crouch coughed. "Now that all the champions are accounted for, on to business. The first task will take place on the twenty-fourth of November, down at the Quidditch Pitch. Unfortunately, I cannot tell you any more, as the purpose is to test you courage and skills under fire. So, until then, good luck, and good night."

"Surely you don't plan on leaving already, Barty?" Bagman asked. "Why don't you at least stay for dinner?"

"Too much to do, too little time, Ludo. Unlike you, I cannot spend mine watching what goes on here."

As Harry, Markus and, for the moment, Hermione drank their butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks, Moody, Hagrid and McGonagall walked in. They ordered their drinks. Madame Rosmerta quickly returned with a full tray. "Gillywater, for you, Professor," she said, handing it to McGonagall, "Your mead, Hagrid," she set the tray with several pints in front of the gargantuan man. She pulled out a wand and cast a bubblehead charm on herself and poured Moody's drink, some strange, shimmering, purple fluid that probably could have eaten holes in the floor. "And for good ol' Mad Eye, a chaser of wormwood brandy," she said with a look of disgust and astonishment. "I thought you only drank from your flask?" Even Hagrid regarded the drink like he wouldn't drink it on a dare.

"You ever try spiking a chaser of wormwood brandy," Moody growled. "Doesn't do anything, unless it makes it stronger, just like goblin forged things."

McGonagall was not amused. "No wonder why. You realize that is essentially distilled magic after what they do to it."

At their table, Markus was sniggering. "Really, you think he would be more responsible," Hermione admonished. "Think its funny do you?"

"Just something I read, somewhere," Markus replied nonchalantly when he stopped. Harry was clueless. "Wizard's wormwood brandy is made from slices of wormwood branches from trees that were grown in the gut of a dead wizard. Then it goes into a magical condenser, which changes it from its natural flourescent green color of absynthe to the dark purple you see there. Its about 90% alcohol. Most people can't handle more than a shot of it, otherwise they'll overload their magical core and burn themselves out. Of course, people believe that the more powerful a wizard you are, the more you can handle. They say that after Arthur died, Merlin took to drinking it straight from the bottle, bottle after bottle in bars, usually for days, since no one dared kick him out," Markus explained. "Purebloods used to sell it to muggles and watch as they spontaneously combusted, or they would drink a shot, and follow it with a chaser of blood, of debatable type. Not many people order it, normally as a dare, or to show off, but its almost unheard of for someone to order it twice." Harry nodded in understanding, while Hermione blinked at the explanation.

Having finished their conversation, McGonagall got up to leave, Moody hobbling behind her. Hagrid stopped for a moment to have a word with Harry, which Markus and Hermione let him have in private.

"What is this about, Harry?" Markus asked as Harry led him through the castle.

"I'll tell you when we find Cedric, its important," Harry dismissed his question. They got down to the courtyard, where Cedric and his friends were heading to Herbology, but Malfoy cut them off. "How do you like the badges, Potter?" the greasy git sneered, shoving a badge in Harry's face. "My father and I have a bet, you see. I don't think your going to last ten minutes in this competition. He disagrees, he doesn't think you'll last five."

"I don't give a damn what your father thinks, Malfoy," Harry responded, pushing his way past Crabbe and Goyle. There was a crack that made him jump, and they turned around when they heard Moody's voice a second later.

"I'll teach you to hex someone when there back is turned boy," he growled, and began levitating a white ferret, making it do flips, tricks, and fly down Crabbe's pants.

"Professor Moody, what are you doing," McGonagall cried.

"Teaching," he answered briskly.

"Teaching?" McGonagall almost shrieked. "Tell me that's not a student."

"Technically its a ferret," he replied rather cheerfully. McGonagall flicked her wand and Malfoy returned to normal.

"My father will hear about this, just you wait," he shouted as he ran.

"Your father? I could tell you stories about your father that would turn even your greasy hair boy, it doesn't end here," he called out.

"Alastor, we NEVER use transfiguration as a punishment. Surely Albus told you that?"

"He may have mentioned it, but I thought it would make a nice example," he scowled. By now they had drawn quite a crowd, including Cedric and his friends.

"If you have a problem with a student you go to their Head of House," McGonagall instructed.

"Severus, huh? Another old friend. I'll make sure to do that," he acqueisced. "Don' t you all have somewhere to be?" he asked rhetorically, and when the crowd was slow to disperse he fired a few stinging hexes into the crowd with a maniacal yell of CONSTANT VIGILANCE, before hobbling away himself. As Cedric and his friends were walking towards the greenhouses once more, Harry muttered a cutting curse that tore right through the bottom of Cedric's bag, spilling his stuff all over.

"You guys go on ahead, tell Professor Sprout that my bag ripped and I'll be there in a few minutes," Cedric told his friends. After they were gone, Harry and Markus approached him.

"Cedric, do you have a moment?" Harry asked, while helping pick up some blowing parchment.

"Look, if its about the badges, I already asked them to stop wearing them," he quickly defended himself.

"No, don't worry about it," Harry said. "I've gotten used to the jeers and leers everyone else, second year."

"Right, sorry about that, the whole heir of Slytherin thing," Cedric apologized again.

"Listen, its about the first task," Harry began.

"Wait, I don't want to turn Lady Luck against me any more," Markus stopped him, walking away.

"Okay then, umm, dragons," Harry said. "That's the first task."

"Dragons? Your joking," Cedric swore. "Look I owe you one."

"Don't mention it, you were the only one who didn't know," Harry said, right before Moody put a hand on his shoulder, making him jump.

"You'd best be getting to Herbology, now, boy," he told Cedric. "Potter, come with me." Moody led him back up to his office, which was quite different from the other Defense teachers' were in the past. Gone were the cages that Lupin would have held various dark creatures, and there were none of the self-portraits that had littered Lockheart's office. Instead, there were the occasional news paper clipping about this or that, with the most recent being the Quidditch World Cup. His desk was littered with mirrors and sneakoscopes. "My dark detectors," Moody said proudly. "This is a foe glass. When I can see the whites of their eyes, they're right behind me. Of course, I had to disable the sneakoscopes, too much lying about why homework wasn't done." Moody took off his wooden leg and got comfortable. "Right then, Potter. You did a very noble thing back there. Cheating has always been part of the Triwizard Tournament. Even if Dumbledore is to honest to do something, you can bet that Madame Maxine and Karkaroff have already told their students about the dragons, and given them a strategy to beat them. Your friend, Mr. du'Gall, he's proud, he doesn't want the help, and he feels like knowing something that's supposed to be a surprise would be tempting fate, which he believes is already conspired against him. So now, what are you going to do about your dragon?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted after a moment.

"Let me give you a tip. Play to your strengths. So then, what are your strengths?" Moody guided him.

"I don't know, I mean I can fly, but," Harry began.

"Your a more than decent flyer from what I've heard," Moody praised.

"But how does that help, I'm not allowed a broom."

"Your allowed a wand," Moody told him, and Harry remembered the summoning charms they had been practicing in charms. Harry rushed off to go find Markus or Hermione.

"Right then," Bagman began. "Everyone is here, now, let's get started." He opened up a purple silk bag. "Miss Delacour, ladies first." He offered her the bag. She reached in and pulled out a miniature dragon. "The common welsh green," Crouch announced. Cedric reached in and pulled out a Swedish Short Snout, Krum pulled out a Chinese Fireball, and Harry pulled out the Hungarian Horntail. Markus looked rather confident as he reached into the bag to pull out the last figurine. "The French Fangtongue," Crouch informed them. "If you look at the number on your figurine, it will tell you the order in which you will attempt the task. Your objective, is to acquire the golden egg, without harming the real eggs. If things get out of hand, we have dragon handlers ready to step in. So without further ado, lets get started."

One by one all of the champions left the tent. Those still waiting could only catch bits of the commentary and the cheering of the crowd. Eventually, Markus was the only one who had not yet competed. Of the champions, so far Harry's trial had been the longest. Finally, Bagman called his name, and he walked out into the pitch to face down the enormous black and sapphire dragon. She was curled over the eggs, occasionally blasting them with a bit of fire.

However, as he moved in to begin his plan, which was to bait the dragon into leaving the eggs and hitting it in the eye with spells until it was subdued, it panicked and took to the sky, fighting the chain that had just been repaired due to the Horntail breaking free. Eventually, it ripped the post out of the ground and flew away, abandoning the eggs. Markus shrugged, and walked over to retrieve the golden egg. He bent down to pick it up, but a fierce scream from the dragon that had just flown off distracted him. An enormous dragon landed in the pitch. It easily filled the half of the pitch, and in its maw was the French Fangtongue that had fled the scene. It chomped down, the powerful jaws snapping the beast in half. It then snaked its neck out and snatched up one of the eggs and swallowed it whole, before repeating the process with the golden one. Markus blinked, and then a single word left his lips. "Fuck."

After the dragon landed, Albus stood, motioning for the dragon tamers and anyone proficient enough to intervene. He sent an extremely powerful stunner at the great leviathan that had decided to join in the first task. But before it could strike the beast, It hit a wall of magic, that now clearly glowed crimson. Markus was sealed in with the beast, until he completed the task, which was now near impossible.

A greatly disturbed Charlie Weasley manuevered his way around the stands, dreading the line of thoughts he had. A few years back he had made a trip up to the Arctic Circle to see a dragon that had been incased in ice centuries ago. This dragon was strikingly similar in color and size, but he couldn't see the distinguishing scar by its eye from some mythic battle. And then, the dragon turned, and he could see it, right across the eye, a thick rent through the thick scales. He rushed to find the headmaster and tell him.

The dragon snaked its neck to snatch another of the eggs, but this time Markus reacted. "Act like this is still the first task," he thought to himself. "The roles have reversed. I'm the protective mother dragon, and he's after my eggs." He snorted in spite of himself as he sent a bludgeoning curse at the dragon, clipping it in the tongue. It pulled its head back and noticed him for the first time, like a hawk eyeing something it would like to eat. "Its a dragon. Dragons breathe fire, so what do I do?" he thought as the dragon lashed its enormous tail that ended in a wicked barb at the rocky outcropping he had moved to, away from the eggs.

He remembered reading on witch burning in the fourteenth century. "What was it that they had done to protect themselves?" he thought as he dodged the blast of fire sent his way. "Right, flame freezing charm," he remembered as another blast of flame grew in the dragon's maw. "Frigidus flamma," he roared, and the flames rushed past him harmlessly. "Now we're in business," he grinned to himself. He dodged another tail lash and and retaliated with blasting curse at the base of its neck. He was rewarded with a roar of anger and another blast of flame sent his way, which he attempted to freeze, but he was still washed over with an enormous amount of heat that made arm blister where he covered his eyes.

"His eye, the scales are damaged there," he thought, sending another cutting curse along the scar. The dragon roared in pain as its eye was cut out by the curse. Enraged, it wrapped its wings around Markus, with the only opening where it had stuck its head in. Markus was left with nowhere to run, and judging by the flames, his flame freezing charm would only make it so there was a pile of blackened bones instead of a pile of ash. "Damn, looks like this is it," Markus swore. "It was fun." The flames rushed towards him, and time seemed to slow, almost to a stop. Visions of the dead danced in front of him, as the flames rushed ever closer. They whispered things to him, but not the jeers from his dreams. They encouraged him, all of them. His mother, Johnathan, everyone he had known. Sera was last;she smiled sadly at him. "Make us proud," she whispered, and something snapped.

It wasn't a breaking, but a finishing, as though he was finally whole, after the pain he had been in. As the flames neared him, he held forth his hand, and flames of his own. They twisted and contorted, forming creatures in the flames that he now could name. Unicorns, phoenixes, small dragons, thestrals, pegasi, griffins, wolves, and other animals formed, and pushed back the dragonsfire, all the way to its mouth.

The dragon was forced back against the barrier by the flames as they melded into a giant phoenix that burned the dragon's wings to dust and crippled its legs and tail. It was dying, and it knew it. However, it was not content to die alone, and so it reared its head back and made another fireball. Markus was to the point of exhaustion, and knew he could only cast one more spell, before he would succumb. As the fire gathered, Markus sent a blasting hex into its mouth, and the flames exploded outwards. The hex, having struck the soft inside, as opposed to the magic resistant scales, caused the neck to explode violently, showering the area with dragon's blood. And then the world went dark.

The crowd waited a moment, and then erupted. "In light of our champion not being awake, we will wait to give him his scores," Dumbledore announced, people already heading down to bring Markus to the Hospital Wing. Next to him, McGonagall stared, mouth agape.

"What was that?" she asked in awe.

"I'm not sure," Dumbledore replied earnestly. I've seen some references to something similar, but one can never be too sure."

"Professor," a winded Charlie Weasley dashed into view. "The eggs, they're hatching, and we still don't have Markus. We can't move him until they are secured, and they're like to try and eat him. Also, we would like permission to take the dragon's remains to study."

"I'm afraid that I cannot allow that, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore replied. "By right of conquest, the dragon's body is his. You'll have to talk to him when he wakes, which, is not likely to be for a few days, at the least. In the meantime, I'm sure your younger siblings would be more than delighted if you waited here at Hogwarts."

"Well, then, I believe that we have a feast to attend," the second oldest of the Weasley suggested, leaving his colleagues to handle the newborn dragons.

A/N: Hermione is still doing SPEW, I just don't feel like writing it in. When its important, she will show her dislike for treatment of house elves, but for now, i'll let it lie. Markus is coming into his power, and will continue rapidly to grow through the next few chapters, and Harry will also begin to get stronger, but most of that won't be until the interlude between years 4 and 5.


End file.
